


Come Down To My Level

by Kosho



Category: BioShock 1 & 2 (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Awkward Lavellan (Dragon Age), Biting, Blood Magic, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Drinking, Drinking & Talking, Elemental Magic, Evanuris, Eventual Smut, Implied/Referenced Mind Control, M/M, Mages (Dragon Age), Magic, Marking, Mild Blood, Mind Control, Mind Manipulation, Minor Injuries, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Pain, Protective Varric Tethras, Scratching, Smut, Solas (Dragon Age) is Grim and Fatalistic, Tags Are Fun, Tags Are Hard, Tags Contain Spoilers, Tags May Change, Templars (Dragon Age), Varric Tethras is a Good Friend, Varric Tethras' Nicknames, Would You Kindly (BioShock)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:08:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 34,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29017140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kosho/pseuds/Kosho
Summary: The crossover I’m not sure anyone was asking for! Jack Lavellan (does the name give it all away yet?) may not recall much before the conclave, or much of what’s going on at the moment, but he’s certain Solas is the one to guide him.Solas on the other hand, doesn’t think much of him, but knows more about him than he’s willing to share, seeing the value of the Herald beyond what most know, he’s not above being the secret hand that guides him.
Relationships: Fen'Harel | Solas/Male Lavellan
Comments: 9
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I’m too critical to appreciate how this flows so I’ll probably adjust it here and there. It’ll get better as it goes, I hope 🥲

Jack sat quietly by himself. The last few days had been more dramatic than most days in his life. Waking up in a dungeon, bound twice over with an odd, painful mark with no memory of any of it and accused of murdering the Divine was enough for many lives. Going back to the temple to face down a demon several times his size and attempting to close a large tear in the sky was impossibly more insane, and though he spent much of that time unconscious on his back, he was exhausted. 

The woman who had kept him prisoner and acted as his handler, Cassandra, insisted he head to the Hinterlands to find a cleric. Jack had no idea why it had to be him. He understood why it had to be him closing rifts and working to fully closing the Breach. Why did the rest have to be on him too? 

A shadow crossed his, and he looked up curiously. Solas looked over him, and he smiled kindly. So far, Solas was the only elf he’d seen here and he was so glad for that familiarity. Prior to this, he hadn’t seen a human in many years, and he’d  _ never _ seen a dwarf, even once. Varric swore he was different from most and Jack agreed, on the basis he was probably right. Solas stared for a few moments, studying him like an ancient text, terribly neutral in a way that made him worry. An impossible read, was he upset with him for some reason he couldn’t be sure of, or was he searching for something specific. 

“How are you feeling?” Solas asked finally. 

Jack frowned a bit. In truth, he was still aching and recovering from some fairly deep scratches from the demon at the Breach. He had been raised not to say anything about it unless it was serious. This was still fairly mild to him. 

“Just catching my breath.” Jack told him. 

“Let me see.” Solas said astutely. 

“Really, I’m fine.” Jack repeated.

Solas didn’t say a word at first. Who knew if he even had the right of it. Such a mousy, freckle faced kid could hardly be who, no... _ what _ he thought he was. If he was correct, this was hardly a person anyway. No vallaslin, not even an adult among the people he called family, personal feelings on the matter aside, it almost seemed laughable to think any clan would send a child to spy on a mainly human matter. 

What had initially made him think this boy was the boon he had possibly hoped for? A simple mark on his hip. Not a tattoo, but a small mark in a shape he recognized. A shape that conjured a  _ god _ he wasn’t particularly fond of at the best of times. But for choosing when he had, this weapon would not have fallen so fortuitously in his lap. Not something he cared much for initially, not until the mark at least. Now he was a liability hiding behind what he hoped was an asset. Imagine if he  _ wasn’t  _ who he thought he might be. 

Solas watched the stiff way he sat, took note of the spots of blood hiding in his dark tunic. Stubborn fool would let it get infected and say nothing about it. Then again...perhaps it was a fine time to test it out, at least he’d have an answer right away. 

“Would you kindly take your shirt off?” Solas said gently. 

Jack's eyes flicked from his face to his tunic. His face lightened up, complete, blind obedience. Unquestioning. Fascinating. The scratches across his chest and back were deep, healed enough to not actively continue to bleed, but definitely in need of some ointment. 

“As I thought. It needs treatment.” Solas scolded lightly. 

He frowned, but sat still, arms at his sides, chin slightly up. Solas fished in his pockets, taking out a small container, the smell of elfroot soft but familiar. There was an undertone of something else, some scent he could no longer recall. Jack whined quietly, eyes squeezed shut. It was a cold sensation that stung a bit, though it passed quickly enough, the faded undercurrents still tingling beneath his skin. He went to cover the marks as though that might soothe it, Solas quickly reaching for his arm, holding it away from himself. 

“It will sting a bit, but you must not touch it. It needs to work.” Solas admonished. “Fortunate for you that I know what little healing I do.” 

Jack tucked his other hand firmly between his thighs when he still felt the urge to wipe off the medicine. Sighing uncomfortably, he bit his lip, nodding slowly. “Varric says you saved my life. Thank you. For that and for this, I mean.” 

Solas frowned slightly. No doubt this meant he’d be seeing a regrettable amount of him. Practically have to stay at his side. His magic was satisfactory in strength and consistency, but with no one else truly familiar with it, he had little enough choice. Unlucky that he had the mark too. Meant this was the one that needed to be kept alive under all costs. After several minutes, he let go of his hand, indicating he could put his tunic back on. He pulled it back on with the very appearance of someone preparing to leave after an awkward encounter. 

Ideally they’d have already set out for the Hinterlands, but an injury like that would warrant at least another day for it to mend enough to stay closed. He pulled up a chair, to the surprise and apparent delight obvious on Jack’s face. Perhaps he could yet learn. If he listened well, that would improve matters greatly. Would he comprehend the things he wanted to share or like most, was that too far above his head? 

Jack stood up, wincing at the ache it caused. He clearly didn’t have much, but there was a bowl of assorted fruits, which he grabbed, holding out in offering. Solas blinked once, choosing an apple from the bowl. 

“A woman dropped by earlier, said it was a few days since I last ate, couldn’t figure out what I might like so they left the bowl here.” Jack said, smiling slightly. “I prefer pears to apples, so I ate one earlier.” 

“You realize they’ll feed you again today, yes?” He asked. “Twice a day at least.” 

Jack seemed utterly mystified by that revelation, gesturing to the bowl as if to suggest he only ate the one to ration them out longer. So his clan was a poor one. He didn’t have to say as much to connect the dots. Ironic that he would grow up in such circumstances, given what else he had inferred about him. Of course he had heard plenty of whispers, knowing things he shouldn’t was a habit, of a sort. 

“I seem to recall a few of the villagers inquiring about whether or not it was appropriate to leave you offerings,  _ Herald of Andraste.” _ He said. 

Jack frowned at that, collapsed into himself with that same worried look he had seen at the Temple. 

“I...I wasn’t sent by the Maker or anyone like that. They’re wrong.” He mumbled anxiously. 

“You are to them a symbol of hope. Regardless of what brought you here, it’s best to simply let them believe. That title offers a certain power and protection. I suggest you make what use of it you can.” Solas told him. 

“That sounds like dishonesty, but...well...you did save me. You’ve seen so much from what I heard mentioned…I suppose I should trust you, you seem to know a great deal. It would be foolish to refuse your council…” Jack hummed thoughtfully. “If you would help me, I would be grateful…”

_ Just like that... _


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the group discovers Jack doesn’t feel himself any more important than anyone else and doesn’t quite like the idea of killing others.

“What are you waiting for?” Cassandra asked curiously. 

Jack stared at the map, swallowing nervously. He had no trouble reading maps, but with the fighting rampant in the area, he had no idea how to navigate the paths safely. 

“I...there’s...no straightforward path…” he murmured. “I don’t think it’s safe to go this route.” 

Cassandra held out her hand and he gave her the map. Solas spoke quietly, pointing to the path down from the camp. “We can simply go this way, we’ll fight through.” 

“I don’t know that I could hurt someone like that…” Jack said uncertainly. 

“I mean kill. They won’t hesitate to hurt or kill you, and you’re still not healed completely. Put them down before they can.” He said casually. 

Varric looked Bianca over, nodding to him. “He’s right Freckles. Regrettable, but you sometimes have to do things you don’t like to keep yourself safe. You, above all, need to stay alive. If you die, we all die.” 

Cassandra picked up her shield, handing the map to him. He stuck it back in his pack, trying to reconcile the concept of putting himself before anyone else. Even as clan First, he was only a piece of the whole picture. It didn’t sit right with him. Jack stared blankly at his hand, curling his fingers slowly. These people  _ needed _ him. Thedas  _ needed _ him. He couldn’t begin to process that. Frowning, he nodded. 

“I understand…” he mumbled. 

He was far from used to this sort of treatment, didn’t like the concept, but asked to weigh these lives, his own against the lives of countless millions? He had to concede the point. 

Solas watched him in silence, waiting to see if he would do as asked or if he might need a little  _ prompting _ , discreetly of course. Varric was regrettably clever, and Cassandra was naturally suspicious, drawing more of her attention was not something he cared to do. He was just a simple apostate here to lend whatever assistance he could, after all. No one should look closely enough to try to peer beyond that. 

The Herald? Anything but ordinary. Nothing to do with the mark at all. That only made him a savior in their minds. A near holy being sent by the Maker, passed through the fade by Andraste’s hand. The truth was surely far simpler in that respect. Him? More complicated, in ways no one could possibly understand. 

Solas put a comforting arm around his shoulder, leaning his head closer to his though it very nearly disgusted him to do so. 

“Aim well, strike true. Make it quick. Eventually it will become a simple reflex. It may not be a path you chose, but it must be done. Now is not the time to fret the morality of such a thing. Can you do this?” Solas asked lightly. 

Jack stared at his hands, already imagining them stained in blood he couldn’t wash away. Fire sprang to life in his palms, gently dancing harmlessly across his skin before he smothered the flames. “I have to, I...I don’t have a choice, do I?” 

Solas stared for a moment. He briefly wondered how conscious a thing with precious little, if any, free will could possibly be. He perhaps might have found him favorable we’re he a spirit, but something that could not choose might well be as dull as a child of the Stone, as bound as any Qunari by the Qun. Slavery was abhorrent, but him? He didn’t view him as a slave, just someone with a will too weak to resist being commanded by someone willing to pull the leash in just the right fashion. 

Jack wore a small smile, hand delicately reaching to cover his. “Thank you. I understand it better now. I’ll do better.” 

Solas maintained his neutral, calm exterior, reviling the way it felt to be touched by such a sorry thing. Rather than tip his hand, he gave his shoulder a light, reassuring squeeze. 

“Of course. I’m here to help, after all.” He said warmly. 

Varric glanced at Jack, then to Solas. Maybe it was an elf thing, but it seemed odd how quickly he was trying to take the kid under his wing. Then again, he was trying to do the same in a different way. Maybe it only seemed curious because of how they chose to go about it. He kind of reminded him of Merrill in that they shared a similar sort of innocence about the world outside of their clans, but Merrill was different in her willingness to fight when needed. Marethari had tried to convince her to come back, had expressed her value even when she refused to return. Jack seemed the sort who believed he meant nothing in the face of the greater good. Seemed obvious that the key was helping him to get an ego, not overinflated, but just enough to let his self-preservation kick in. 

Jack swallowed hard, leaving Solas’ grasp. He headed down the path, reaching for his staff, clutched anxiously like it was the only thing saving him. The idea was eating at him, but he was trying to come to grips with it. Cassandra held her shield up and Varric maintained the distance afforded him by his crossbow, Solas similarly distanced, Jack showed no such caution, rounding the path without checking. He turned, a cautiously optimistic smile on his face when he was struck down by a heavy shield blow, a blade following, jammed into his shoulder. 

Solas swore under his breath. Nothing he could do but try to fend off what Templars were still surrounding them. Jack stared up at the sky, warmth spilling down his body and pooling underneath him, feeling like he just got charged down by a damn druffalo. Varric took the chance, rushing in to pull him back. Solas frowned. Taking a moment to kneel by his side, he leaned close, ostensibly to try and focus a bit of spirit magic toward stabilizing him.

Jack grunted painfully, pulling away from him. He looked lost for a moment, arm limply hung by his side. His right arm curled the length of his staff to get as much support to it as possible. Unstable, large flares of fire curled and popped, his expression all too relaxed given his protests before, his assistance welcome in the waves of Templars and mages that assailed them from all sides. 

When the last fell, Jack staggered up a short flight of stairs, hand over his wound, breathing labored. 

“Are you...Mother Giselle?” He groaned quietly.

“I am, but young man, you need medical care…” she said, concerned. 

“Irrelevant. I’ll get care after you’re safe.” He refused. “If you can speak on the way, I’d appreciate you telling me on the way. I’m...a little lightheaded. I don’t know how I got back up, honestly.”

“We have mages with healing skill here that can help…” Giselle repeated. 

“I…” he looked back at the others. 

Varric waved to him in a way that said he should get treated first. Licking his lips, he took a seat, nervously taking off his now ratty tunic, torn on both sides from where the sword cut through. Unfortunate, he really only had the clothes he arrived with otherwise. Lady Montilyet had seen to it that he had his current clothes if only to have a change of clothes when his own were being cleaned. 

He winced at the feeling of too cold hands touching his already burning wound. This would take time they didn’t have, but in fairness, it was nearing excruciating. Serious enough it was now a priority, but he didn’t like the way that felt to him. 

Giselle spoke with him at length, and he frowned. Going to Val Royeaux felt like walking into the lion’s den, poking them and hoping he didn’t get bit. Still, Cassandra had mentioned he’d eventually have to go. Might as well be sooner rather than later. Then, the guilt of taking life was already beginning to set in. His keeper warned him that while they didn’t follow chantry teachings, where magic was meant to serve man, they did stress one should never do magic in sight of others unless it was needed. This was arguably needed, but still felt like a waste. 

Solas watched from a distance. Odd how vastly different Jack was. For one utterly personified in vengeance? The boy held some sliver of that drive, not attacking until he was already injured, though even that required prompting. It was unimpressive. Needed work. He was too gentle. Too mild. One way or another he would temper him into a proper weapon. Perhaps there were yet other uses for him he wasn’t seeing yet...

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

Val Royeaux was a long trip, already stressful enough if only because of how stiff everyone had gotten between the long walk and sleeping on hard ground. The time had been filled with carving out time he’d much rather have devoted to dreaming in the Fade instead working up a sweat trying to teach him basics.  _ Look _ before rushing out where one could get hurt. Unless there’s active combat,  _ wait _ . Determine first if someone is a threat — don’t hesitate to attack if they are. 

Really, it was an annoyance having to serve as a teacher to one who should already know such things. To waste  _ his _ precious time like that? At least he appeared to be a quick study. Cassandra had personally thanked him for helping. 

“No trouble. The Herald should have access to whatever he needs to succeed. I place myself at his disposal gladly, if it helps.” He had replied pleasantly. 

A lie that soured in his mouth. It was with great reluctance he offered himself up. If it wasn't for how regrettably necessary he was to the goal of closing the breach, it might be amusing to see what the clerics would do to him. As it stood, they had only barely called attention to him and he sunk into himself. Disgraceful. If he was meant to be a figurehead he should at least learn to  _ act _ like he was capable of being at the forefront. Yet more work he’d have to do. At this rate, people would talk. He might find it amusing if Jack was at least a fraction of him. 

He was eager to quit the city, but Jack was being pulled in every direction. Solas grimaced. Nothing to do for it with even Cassandra following without complaint. Jack knelt to retrieve an arrow, head tilted curiously. A man extending a gold leaf embellished invitation to him. Jack read it curiously, putting it in his pocket. There was time to look into it. 

Reading the message attached to the arrow, he first headed in the direction of a small cafe. Wading through people, his eyes swept the ground. Spotting a red cloth under the table, he bent down to retrieve it. Reading the next note, he went back the other way, heading for the docks. This cloth was easier to find, but the last, he assessed as being up on the upper walkway. Unsure how to get up there, he hastily and easily scaled the wall, bored Orlesians watching for a few moments before sniffing boredly and returning to their own idle conversations. 

Solas stared in disbelief as Varric and Cassandra did nothing to deter him, leaving him to his own devices. He worked his way back down, the messages adding up to a meeting location and time. He smiled triumphantly. 

“I solved it!” He said proudly. 

Varric smiled approvingly. “Good job Freckles.” Examining the invitation when he held it out. “Should also see if we can’t find you something more appropriate to wear.”

“Is there truly time for such distractions?” Solas wondered quietly, his tone neutral, but pleasant. “Should we not be reporting back?” 

“Commander Cullen asked that I try and recruit where I can…” Jack said, a tired smile on his face. “I got one lady with food, maybe if I go, I can get more people?” 

“He’s right. We need more influence to accomplish anything. It isn’t all about fighting demons and closing rifts. Much as I find these events distasteful, it isn’t wrong to count on at least a few supporters. Orlais is a contrary place. Some will want to join simply because they find the common opinion to be a bore.” Cassandra explained. 

“I...still don’t completely understand, but Lady Montilyet, Sister Leliana and the Commander taught me enough to get by. It’s confusing. Not as straightforward as dealings within my clan.” He admitted. 

_ “A shocker, to be sure.”  _ Solas thought. “ _ The Dalish being simpler.”  _

It was well he had made no requests to send any letters or have a few scouts drop in to check on ‘Clan Lavellan’. Too much at stake. 

Forcing a slight smile, Solas relented. A familiar hand on his shoulder, he peered at the note. Too obvious now if the Herald were to suddenly change his mind. 

“This meeting isn’t until tonight. Shall we instead go look for something better for you to wear?” Solas asked gently.

“What about you? Don’t Varric and Cassandra also need better?” He wondered. 

“Our reputations speak for ourselves. Cassandra was a hand of the Divine. No one would dare demand more. I’m a well known author, I’m expected to be roguishly handsome. The chest hair serves nicely as a distraction.” Varric explained. 

“I am not as important as  _ you _ . Sl- elven servants are quite common here. Even if I were to dress up, the general impression would be that I’m here in my capacity to serve you.” Solas explained. 

Jack paled at that. “I...they won’t try to take me away?” 

“They could try. Enough people already know who you are. Regardless of what they might personally think, your title, while not official, does grant you a certain amount of immunity.” Cassandra told him. 

“But...I’m also an elf. Why would I have an elven servant?  _ Could _ I even have one?” He questioned, equal parts genuinely curious about the answer and horrified at the thought. 

“Normally? No. Again, you are a special case. It would be... _ expected  _ that someone of your status would have at least one servant to do the unimportant tasks for you.” Cassandra said stiffly. 

Clearly she also found the subject distasteful, but Solas hardly seemed bothered. His hand squeezed his shoulder and he bent to meet his eyes. 

“It is merely a role. I don’t mind playing it for a short time. I’ve seen such things many times. Trust that I can accurately represent the same sort of part.” Solas assured him. “There will be many things you don’t want to do, but you must learn to at least seem the leader people expect you to be.” 

“I...don’t feel right about this, but if you insist it’s the right thing to do…” Jack mumbled. 

Gods but he couldn’t wrap his mind around how different life outside his clan was. 

Solas kept the gentle expression on his face, but inside he was seething, humiliated by the very idea of even  _ pretending _ for a little while to be subservient to  _ him _ . Little better than playing nice with the  _ Creators _ . Not something he enjoyed, but a regrettable necessity at times. In some ways  _ pride  _ and  _ vengeance  _ went hand in hand like famous friends, in other ways, they were at odds, and this was just a version of that truth. Still, in some ways it was at least  _ refreshing _ that he was less like he imagined he might be. In others, maddening. For all the things he  _ hated  _ about  _ him _ , at least he had some concept, however misguided as to what leadership was meant to look like. At the very minimum, the stupid, wide eyed look of adoration the fool saved for him was flattering. Stroked his ego in ways he had gone far too long without. Maybe there was some use he could wring out of him while trying to passably sculpt him into what he needed to be. What  _ he _ needed him to be. 

“I believe I saw a clothing store near here.” Solas said. “Perhaps something in green.” 


	4. Chapter 4

There was a certain benefit to being the only other of his kind. Jack’s constant gravitation towards him meant he might sooner rather than later be able to make use of him without a constant need to  _ make _ him do as he expected. 

Jack kept wrinkling his nose, fingers dipping under his collar to dig at the slight itch his suit jacket induced. Solas lightly put his hand over his, trying to get him to stop scratching. He had to give it to him. He had done surprisingly well at Madame de Fer’s salon. The woman offered herself up to the Inquisition’s service, although you’d have to be blind and out of your mind not to see it was a power move. It benefitted Jack to keep her close, the woman was powerful and influential, she could rub off on him. But also, fine practice, showing Jack the most critical of humans up close would only reinforce his nervousness around them, and he  _ was _ nervous of most. He seemed to generally like the ones who served in advisory capacities, but was skittish around most others. 

Still, he had been incredibly charming, managing to get most of the attention on him with heavily embellished accounts of the things he had supposedly done. After a brief time around Varric, and with a bit of the teachings Solas had offered up, he knew better than to correct any of the nobles. He simply nodded when appropriate, smiling as though utterly flattered that he was being mentioned, despite the discomfort written in the sorry depths of dark eyes. 

Solas didn’t find him particularly funny or good at conversation, not on his level in intelligence either, but his looks were a decent point. Between the dark, soulfulness in his eyes, and the dusting of freckles he counted several times that people leaned in to speak to him in a way that made him wonder if perhaps they’d rather have a room. 

Thankfully it was just this mystery meeting left and there would only be a several day walk between him and the opportunity to take a breath. Regrettably, it seemed more like an ambush the moment they walked in. Several guards began shouting when they took note, and in one moment, Solas realized all that teaching was going to waste when Jack gripped his staff and took a step back. Holding his shoulder, his tone was quite but tinged in venom, hissed against his ear. Despite the frustration in it, he felt the slight shiver that tore through him. 

“ _Would you_ **_kindly_ ** _ deal with this!” He asked.  _

Solas watched the blank look on his face when he looked up at him for a moment. That sense of satisfaction returned in a matter of moments, the sort of power he held, a weapon that was meant to be so much more but, purpose denied, the reins had fallen to him. Oh, he’d get a shot at his original intent someday, assuming the breach didn’t destroy everything. But until then, he was  _ enjoying _ the eagerness with which he seemed to respond. Like a dog, obedient and desperate for attention. Actually. A fine analogy. He didn’t care much for dogs, but he could learn to like this one. 

Jack took a few steps, erupting in goosebumps when the lightning emanated in crackling sparks all over his body. The tension of an oncoming storm, air thick with the scent, he dropped the staff, shuddering visibly when he let up on his control of it. There was a sort of excitement painted in his eyes, a pleased grin on his face, eyes wide and gleaming when the boots danced across the ground, seeking out the guards with loud, popping shocks. For just a moment, he looked all too familiar, right down to the stupid look on his face. 

It passed quickly enough, but there was no denying the resemblance when it came to their shared apparent love of storms. Jack waited, watching for movement beyond the jumping of shocks pulsing through dying nerves. Seemingly satisfied, he bent to retrieve his staff, staring at it oddly, in a way that suggested he wasn’t sure why he dropped it in the first place. Shrugging, he dashed through the next gate, barely managing to stumble back when a fireball whizzed past him. A man in a mask muttered about how it must have weakened the inquisition, his ramblings scarcely sensible. Jack raised his hand, but an arrow struck him down. 

A rush of pantsless guards rushed them, and together with the odd girl, it didn’t take very long. Jack seemed to light up in a familiar way when he noticed she was an elf. It discouraged him a moment when she immediately wrinkled her nose at him, evidently quite disappointed that he was both a man and an elf. He seemed unsure of what she meant by hoping he wasn’t too ‘elfy’ but he suspected he might be. Truthfully, Solas had more hopes  _ she _ could learn than he could. Then again, she was unfortunately immature and if he could have done anything to discourage Jack from agreeing to bring her along, he would have. Couldn’t even be relied on to keep his attention for a bit with that sort of attitude. 

Then again, he was malleable. How tolerable would he be if he could only understand the things he could teach him. He stared down in surprise when a pair of hands reached to cover his, wide, pleased smile so big his eyes were thin crescents. Before he could inquire, he blurted it out. 

“I did it! I actually got it right, see? No damage, and I got a few! Are you proud of me?” He asked quietly but with an  _ almost _ infectious enthusiasm. 

Solas relented, putting his hand on his head lightly. “Of course. You did well, I’m very pleased. Keep it up.” 

So he seemed to view his commands as his own choices rather than being directed? Interesting. Terrible how many potential ways there were to exploit such a thing. At the very least, no one else had yet hit the phrase by accident, that was at least  _ something _ good. Well. He had a few new ideas he wanted to test out over the course of the trip back. It wasn’t exactly something he would normally care enough to take apart and study, but just this once? He had to know just how it worked. 

Jack inadvertently leaned into the contact, almost like he was starved for attention. He was uncertain of the exact specifics, but he had a few questions. Curiosities only, not that he actually had an interest in any of the answers to any question one could ask about Jack. The answers offered insight he might find useful in directing him more effectively, a worthy line of inquiry. 


	5. Chapter 5

Jack knelt by the fire when they set camp on the first night on the way back to Haven. His fingers lightly orchestrated faint shocks of electricity, focused enough to raise pebbles and bits of debris, eyes flicking between his work and the darkening skies. Solas watched him for a few seconds, moving to stand. 

“Come with me.” He said quietly. 

Jack looked up, wanting to inquire about the reason. He refrained from doing so, rising to his feet. Brushing off his knees, he reached for his pack, instructed to leave it behind. 

“Just conversation.” Solas said. “Not out here to feed you to demons, if you were concerned.” 

Jack immediately shook his head. “No, nothing so dramatic. Just...I mean, I hoped, but I didn’t think you would find me very interesting. I’m...not as worldly or fascinating as you…” 

“I  _ am _ actually hoping you’ll tell me about yourself.” Solas told him. 

He smiled a little bit, straightening up. “N-no one seems interested. What do you want to know?” 

“Start small. How old are you?” He asked. 

Really, it was more how old he perceived himself as being, a very different thing. 

“Twenty four…” Jack sighed, sweeping his hair behind his ear. “I-I know I must seem young, I’m sorry for that.” 

Older than he expected to hear. Perhaps it wasn’t an exact art. 

“You came from the Free Marches, correct? What was your clan like? Lavellan, I thought I heard.” Solas questioned. 

He definitely didn’t miss Jack slowly walking closer to him with each question. Looking more like he was right yet again. 

Jack smiled at first, but the longer he thought about it, the less happy he looked, till he offered only an uncomfortable, lonely half smile that instead made him look on the verge of tears. 

“It’s a big clan, have both my parents and even siblings, but...I was First. It was one thing that the rest of the clan avoided me, I had to study. Always studying something, learning from someone. ‘Control your magic, read this and tell me what you think it means’ always busy…I’d gather you already’ve realized my clan wasn’t well off, we barely had enough for the whole clan, food was scarce, supplies even more. Had an order of priority, and as future leader of the clan I was very low. I never had a chance to really spend time with my siblings, and my parents were often busy. Mostly just been me.” Jack sighed, looking back in the direction of the camp. “I had hoped Sera and I would also get along but she seems to dislike me. The others are f-fine. But...we have so little in common. I...really just have you.” 

He fell silent, gaze fixed on his palms, kneading them as though they ached. They didn’t, but it was a stress habit he had never learned to break. Jack flinched away when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. Jolting anxiously, he realized it was just that increasingly familiar hand on his shoulder. Taking a few deep, steadying breaths, standing taller, unconsciously attempting to mirror Solas’ posture. 

So he truly was correct. The only of his kind he viewed as understanding, a sympathetic hand he felt he could trust. That would make things easier. Getting him to listen and do as asked without the need to force it would certainly do less to draw attention. Much as he found him utterly distasteful, he wasn’t foolish enough to throw away something that still held value to him. 

“As I said, I am at your disposal, for whatever you might require. Considering the wealth of information I can provide you on a number of subjects, you would do well to make use of that.” Solas said pointedly. 

“I...wouldn’t know where to begin, you’re just so much smarter than me, I’d hate for you to have to speak simpler to me, can’t imagine that would feel too good…” Jack mumbled uneasily. 

His chest puffed slightly. It always stroked his ego in just the right way to be praised, and it did something wonderful to think of such a thing metaphorically bowing at his feet. He liked to think  _ he  _ was somewhere cradling his face in shame as his offspring bent the knee so easily, and to  **_him_ ** of all the possibilities. He would absolutely  _ hate _ that.

“Now, you give yourself too little credit. You’re supposed to be the Herald of Andraste, are you not? Even if you can’t believe it, as long as you can present the image, that will often go far enough to appear worth following. I can see the leader you  _ could  _ be, but you must make that change.” Solas lectured. 

Jack glanced to his hands again, forcing himself to look him in the eye, his face struggling to look more focused, more serious. His brows quivered, lip fighting his teeth to stay out of his bite. 

“Can you help me? I want to look like I know what I’m doing at least...I know you’ve been helping me get better with fighting and it might be too much to ask, but  _ please _ ! I know I owe you more than I can repay, if I could just ask a little more.” He begged. 

_ Oh _ but that was a sound he could listen to forever. Begging without being told to? A fine place to start. Solas shifted his gaze intentionally away from him, as though he wasn’t so interested in his request. Jack looked increasingly worried, taking slower steps back towards him, just at the edge of his vision like a dog subtly checking for forgiveness. Solas took a few steps away, pretending to be suddenly very interested in his staff. Jack seemed to realize he wasn’t worth the attention, asserting his presence again, more strongly. 

“I know it’s a lot of work to teach me, I’m a terrible student, but you’re...you’re all I’ve got. No one else understands the way you do. Everyone else is terribly busy, I know you are too, but I hoped I wouldn’t be...quite so burdensome to you.” He pleaded once more. 

He grinned widely, keeping his back to him until he could regain his neutral expression. Turning to face him, he looked thoughtful. After a time, he offered a reluctant nod. “I suppose I’m the best choice, if not the most obvious.” 

“We’ll start when we return. By then we should have more of an idea of what to do next as it is. You have much to learn, but perhaps I can make a dent.” He sighed.

Jack smiled, pleased that at last someone had time for him. Gesturing towards the camp, he asked “so are we going back?” 

Solas shook his head. “I’ll be back in the morning. You go back, Cassandra will be furious if you stay away too long.” 

Jack frowned at that, turning to leave almost immediately. He offered a rushed apology, missing the relief on his face when he finally left. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varric makes it his personal mission to get Jack out of his shell in his own way with Solas out of the picture for the night.

Jack crawled into the tent, leaned over himself. He looked sad, like someone had cancelled his nameday. Varric scrutinized Bianca carefully, attempting to buff out a small nick in the wood. 

“What’s the matter, Freckles?” He asked conversationally. 

“I’m...I’m bored, and overwhelmed, and lonely, it’s...a bunch of things all at once and I’m not...not used to that. I’m used to having plenty to keep me distracted…” he admitted guiltily. 

“You’re a long way from home, you probably haven’t been away from your family for this long. It’s a fair reaction to a weird situation.” Varric assured him. 

Jack hung his head, nodding slowly. It made sense. Part of him wondered if he forced it to seem sensible so he didn’t have to think about it too seriously. Easier to think it was just because he was homesick than because he was a terribly codependent and clingy person. It made him feel strangely just to admit that he was often largely ignored and was starving for attention. It was selfish to think that way. Then again, what he wouldn’t give for something to study or practice so he at least  _ felt _ like he was being productive. 

“I suppose it is.” He said finally. 

“Are you tired or will you be up for a bit yet?” Varric asked. 

“I’m not tired yet.” Jack told him. 

“Well, in that case, let me teach you a few games. Have some good conversation, sound like fun?” Varric offered. 

“That sounds like fun. I don’t know many games, at least none with cards. No promises on good conversation though. I’m afraid I’m not very interesting, but I could think of a few questions I could ask about you.” Jack mumbled. “You are, after all, the first dwarf I’ve ever met.” 

Varric chuckled at that. “Count yourself lucky you’ve met the best first then.” 

He wasn’t quite sure what that meant, but he wasn’t sure what made him the best dwarf. As if he seemed to read the question like it was written on his face, he continued. 

“I’m an innovator, for one. No other dwarf would trade a beard for all this chest hair.” He said, gesturing to his chest in emphasis. “For another, surfacers are just more fun to be around. Orzammar is too steeped in tradition to remember  _ what _ fun is.” 

Jack took the cards Varric pushed toward him, brow furrowed already, unsure if he was meant to keep them down or look at them, deciding it best to wait for his instruction. His clan wasn’t usually one for games, and even if they had been, he was doubtful he’d have had the time to participate. 

“How is Solas treating you, anyway?” Varric asked, concern masked in curiosity. “You know you don’t  _ have  _ to do anything that feels wrong to you, right?” 

He frowned when his eyes went wide. Seriously? This kid had no idea he had a choice in things? Shaking his head, he sighed. 

“Looks like I’ve got more than just cards to teach you.” He said. “Not saying you can’t listen to him  _ ever _ , but he’s a bit stuffy. Like...serious dad.” 

Jack laughed at that. He hadn’t really ever thought of him as a fatherly type, but he wasn’t wrong. He did at least  _ have  _ a serious dad aura about him. “Then...you’re... _ fun  _ dad?” 

Varric took a moment to scratch his chin, thinking it over. He shrugged. “I guess I am.” 

Jack tried to think of his own father for a moment. It couldn’t have been  _ that  _ long yet. Why was it suddenly so hard to remember much. He could picture his face very clearly, could even hear his voice. But when he tried to think of specific memories, there was nothing. It was as if he simply had nothing to recall, but that couldn’t be right. 

“This is just practice, Freckles. Let me see your cards, and I’ll show you what to do, this time at least, maybe next too if you don’t know what to do.” He instructed. 

Jack blinked slowly, holding out the cards. Varric looked through them for a few moments, before turning them back to show him. It was a garbage hand, honestly, but he at least explained the suits, not much to tell in the low numbers, and no real decent play in them. Varric took a moment to grab his, fanning them out to show him. 

His eyes followed his finger, staring at odd shapes and numbers, doing his best to memorize what he said they meant, which were better than others and which weren’t very good at all. At least it  _ sort of _ made sense. Varric took a moment to set the cards down, rummaging through his pack. He held up a bottle, holding it out curiously. 

“I could use a drink. Join me?” He questioned. “Unless you’re bothered by sharing?” 

Jack couldn’t recall ever drinking either, and it was definitely a sense of curiosity that had him reaching for it when he offered it. He took a small, hesitant sip, handing it back while he gave it some thought. Slightly bitter, had a bite to it. Not entirely unpleasant, but unlike anything he could compare it to in a meaningful way. He was certain his lack of memory only covered what happened at the conclave, why were there suddenly gaping holes in his other memories? 

“What do you think? Last thing I have from Kirkwall. Didn’t have time to grab anything else. The Seeker was  _ very  _ insistent that I go with her, immediately, rather than after a chance to pack up anything.” Varric sighed. 

“It’s...I can’t think of the good words...but I think I like it?” Jack told him. 

Varric chuckled at that. “Hawke said the same thing the first time he tried it. It either grows on you or it doesn’t. 

He took a long swig, handing it back. “Try a bit more. Not too much at once. Don’t want you to get sick. I don’t have anything on me to help if you do.” 

Jack stared at the bottle for a moment, trying to decide how much would be too much. He took a bigger drink, handing it back. He felt mostly fine, probably needlessly worried. It tasted slightly better, and he wondered if that meant he might develop a taste for it after all? 

“Who’s Hawke?” Jack asked. 

“You don’t know?” Varric wondered. “Have I got some stories for you! Hope you’re not too tired yet. 

Jack slowly shook his head, moving to sit on his legs, hands folded in his lap. This much, he did remember, and it was a personal favorite, he loved stories, whether they were folktales about the creators or personal anecdotes. Varric put the bottle aside long enough to gather the cards, shuffle them thoroughly and deal them out once more. 

“I should start from the beginning, or none of this will make sense.” He said thoughtfully. “I gather you weren’t here for the Blight, but that’s where this starts. A little nothing town called Lothering.” 

“Go to bed!” Cassandra said. 

Varric made a face, sighing as he again scooped up the cards, his voice quieter. 

“I can still see in the dark. If you can, we’ll be fine without the extra light.” Varric muttered. “Anyway. Lothering…” 


	7. Chapter 7

Solas stared at him silently. His arms were crossed over his chest. He turned his gaze only a few moments to give Varric the same glare. 

“Well, I hope you're pleased. You’ve ruined the Herald.” Solas lectured finally. 

Jack clutched his head like the combination of light and quiet talking was causing him some inexplicable agony. Varric was about to answer when he spoke again. 

“ _ Someone _ found it hilarious to exhaust my supply of herbs on a whim, so I suppose it’s fitting that you’ll just have to suffer until we get back. Perhaps you’ll think of this the next time you opt not to be sensible.” Solas scolded. 

Sera giggled in the background, Cassandra still snorting bits of elfroot from her nose, out of her hair and out of the neck of her shirt, swearing she’d catch Sera and wring her neck. Jack tried to laugh, but it felt like his head might split when he did. 

“Look, it was my idea, at least spare Freckles the lecture.” Varric said finally. 

“I  _ should  _ continue, if only to further illustrate my point. We aren’t even back to Haven, what possessed you to think it was a good time for that?” Solas turned his ire to Varric entirely then. 

Jack stumbled in front of the group, groaning quietly to himself with every shuffling step. Good thing he had that big of color left or it might be reasonable to assume he had died and his corpse had risen again. He leaned heavily on his staff, using it to keep him from hunching over or worse, falling entirely. Cassandra had mentioned at some point which might honestly have been either minutes before or the morning before for all the sense time made just then, that they’d reach Haven by early evening. All he wanted was to get there and drop into his bed. 

He ground the palm of his hand against his eye, trying to stave off the pain, the brilliant shimmer of light emitting from the mark instead making it worse  _ and  _ causing spots to swim in his vision. By the time he recalled clearly looking to see where they were, they had reached the Hinterlands once more. Jack quickly dipped his head to the side, barely ducking out of the way of an arrow that Cassandra deflected easily with her shield. His eyes flew open, looking around before he saw a group of bandits. Their sudden presence seemed to have interrupted a search of the fresh corpses on the ground next to them. 

“They…” Jack muttered, an unnamed emotion rising up into his chest. It burned. “How could they…?” 

Solas nodded to them, leaning down to meet his ear. “Are you angry?” 

“I am…” Jack said guiltily. 

“Do something about it.” He urged. 

“I...sho—“ he was prepared to debate it even then. 

Solas frowned. Clearly even anger and a hangover weren’t enough to push him into action. 

“Not even now…” Solas sighed. “Kill them, would you kindly?” 

Even then, Varric was already taking aim, Sera not far off, bow drawn. Cassandra stood ready to fend them off if they attacked. Jack looked away from them, staring at the bandits, then to the bodies. The sky rumbled, darkened by the sudden covering of angry storm clouds flashed brilliantly, rolling bolts streaking to the ground. The ground blackened where it touched, and the bandits yelled and scattered in a vain attempt to flee the storm. 

Varric drew his sleeve over his nose when the first found its target, the smell of burning flesh unpleasant and seemingly  _ everywhere _ . Sera pinched her nose and Cassandra buried her face behind her shield, barely taking a step back when a stray bolt hit near where she was about to step. Jack clutched the side of his head, unable to look away or risk losing control of his magic, but Creators was it hell inside his skull. The sound, the smell, the bright sparks all far too much for the screeching fury. He stared at the blade of his staff, stumbling over to the last when the storm had passed. He scrambled back, attempting to get away from him. Solas feigned shock, watching him slam the end of his staff through his skull. 

_Now if_ ** _that_** _wasn’t a familiar sight._

Jack frowned. Staring down at the man, he attempted to pull his staff free. It wouldn’t budge, lodged firmly in bone. He grunted, pulling again, harder, with much the same result. He looked back at the group, gesturing to his staff, increasingly uneasy. His eyes looked on the verge of tears when he planted his foot on the man’s head, pulling harder. He dropped it almost immediately after, stumbling over to a nearby shrubbery, hating that his companions were hearing it all. 

Solas grimaced, heading a few feet the opposite direction, he grabbed a stalk of elfroot, walking over to him. He plucked the leaves, pocketing those for later, breaking the roots up a bit smaller, he held them out in offering. Very few things earned someone’s gratitude like helping to ease pain, however self-induced it might be. 

Jack didn’t even bother looking. Why would he try to kill him, he reasoned. He smacked his palm against his mouth, dumping the broken roots in. 

“‘Ank you…” he mumbled. 

“I suppose it  _ is _ the least I can do. You did better than I expected. A little praise can sometimes be useful. Well done.” He said flatly. 

Jack fumbled with his water, nearly dropping it thrice, before he managed to get a drink. He set his tongue between his teeth and closed it. Pushing himself upright, he found Varric fishing in the pockets of the dead bandits, nothing he cared for personally, but the little trinkets might be worth something for the right buyer, and that would be appreciated in the bare coffers of the Inquisition. Hell, he probably still might have pocketed it, but the kid had really done the lion’s share of the work, and with a hangover. Even Hawke wasn’t nearly that productive after a night at the Hanged Man unless he absolutely had to be. 

He stood a little straighter at least, stomach not in such tight knots now. 

“Did I...was that okay?” He asked Solas quietly. 

“You did fine. Now if you would stop hesitating.” He said. He held his shoulder, thumb digging into his still healing sword wound. Jack gritted his teeth, sucking air sharply. His hand hovered over his like he meant to grab it, but he slowly backed away, shivering. “I say this because I  _ know _ they don’t hesitate to hurt you. There’s no point in…” Solas stopped, looking at him curiously. “You’re actually  _ enjoying _ that, aren’t you?” 

Jack frowned, face flushed brightly. He would have immediately denied it if he thought he might believe it. As it stood, he had a look that felt much like he could see everything inside of him. He exhaled through his nose, immediately covering it when Solas let up. What was the feeling behind it? If he could pin down a reason, it would be easily wielded in his favor. 

“We’ll discuss this when we return. You lead the way, hurry.” Solas reminded him. 

He looked up to the front, cursing under his breath. Running ahead, he kept his back to the group, unwilling to let anyone else see his face like that. 

  
  



	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas discovers the keys to winding Jack around his little finger lie in a few things, praise, attention, and pain.

Jack delivered his version of events when they returned to Haven. Dismissed to go get some rest, he bowed his head slightly, turning to walk the grounds back to his little house. It wasn’t much by most standards, but it was a palace to someone who grew up with the bare minimum. He sighed, closing the door behind him, jumping when he saw the figure in his room. His hand flew to his chest, exhaling slowly. 

“Creators, Solas, you scared me. I didn’t expect to see you here.” Jack mumbled quietly. 

“I  _ did _ say I intended to speak with you when we returned, did I not?” Solas said. 

“I...yes, you did…” he confirmed. 

He had forgotten already, and felt foolish for the reminder. Of course he wasn’t one to waste time. Rather than indicate what he intended to talk about right off, he instead gestured for him to remove his shirt, holding up the little container. Jack made a face, remembering the way it stung. Opting not to argue, he sat on the edge of the bed, peeling his shirt off, neatly spread over his lap. 

Solas took note of the way he listened right away without having to be  _ persuaded. _ He was starting to get ideas on how to potentially make him even more amenable without having to force the issue at every turn. He stared down at him, pushing him back, surprised at how little resistance he offered. The Creators he so adored would have  _ loved _ him. He sat over his hips, weight on his feet and knees rather than directly on him. He purposely pinned his hands under his knees when he did, he coated his mending injuries thoroughly. 

Sure, potions would have gone a long way to helping them heal, but why tell him that? He knew well enough, but despite a ready supply, chose to ration them ‘in case of an emergency’. He purposely pushed his thumb firmly against the injuries when he rubbed it in, feeling the way he squirmed, hips raising off the bed slightly. He whimpered softly, sucking in a shuddering breath. His eyes watered, and that was  _ delightful. _ A sliver of him briefly considered bending lower to lick away the tears. All too obvious he didn’t dislike the feeling. 

Thinking of that, he opted to ask. “Tell me, do you trust me?” 

Jack immediately nodded, a stiff gesture born of swallowing away the sharp ache shocking through his wounds. 

“Have you forgotten your words?” Solas questioned. 

“Y—yes, I trust you.” He groaned. 

He tried to pull his hands free, giving up after a few futile attempts. 

“Now, an honest answer if you don’t mind. Do you  _ enjoy _ being hurt like this?” He asked, jabbing a knuckle against his freshest injury in emphasis. 

Jack gasped, lip quivering. He stared up at him through almost fully closed eyes, tears rolling slowly down his cheeks. He started to nod, but stopped. “I...maybe a little.” 

“This doesn’t seem like a little.” He said. 

“I...I do.” He amended. 

“You weren’t entirely honest with me. I’m hurt.” Solas said, in mock offense. 

One last test for now. How would he react to pains inflicted intentionally. His fingertips trailed just below his claw marks, staring at them in thought. Not very impressive. Demons were supposed to be fearsome. These marks weren’t even very deep when fresh. 

Jack watched him, the way his fingers curled, almost anticipating what was about to happen as though he  _ knew _ what he planned. Blunt nails dug in, tore easily into his skin, red trails welling up, bleeding in places. It stung worse than the medicine, warm and wet over his torso. His eyes squeezed shut, head digging back into the mattress, a string of muttered curses under his breath, freckled face red. 

Solas ran his fingers slowly through his hair, gripping hard, pulling him slowly upright, not as difficult as it might be with him willingly moving to sit up. He popped the cork of a potion, held to his lips. 

“Drink it.” He said. 

Jack cooperated readily, tongue sweeping his lips when he finished, staring up at him curiously. The fresh marks slowly healed until they were no longer visible, the marks on his chest, back and shoulder sealed, but scarred over, they had gone too long untreated to fade entirely, but he hardly seemed concerned. 

He paused beside his ear, voice little more than a whisper. It made him shiver. Pulling back, he watched his eyes glaze over, blank and wide, a brief thing he was growing to like. 

“You did not answer my question.” Solas said. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t...can’t seem to remember what you asked me.” Jack admitted guiltily. 

“I asked if you found that enjoyable.” Solas said. 

Jack’s head dropped, hands free now, they ran over where the marks he left had been moments before, face a deep, shameful red. He set his lips again, swallowing nervously. 

“Yes…” he said. 

“Here I thought you at least had manners. It appears I’ll have to teach you that much as well.” He said, a hint of annoyance in his tone. 

Jack frowned, trying to figure out what manners he was failing to use. He could think of none, hesitantly opting to try what he  _ might _ have missed. 

“Th—thank you…?” He said nervously, hopefully. 

“ _ You’re welcome.” _ He replied. “Perhaps you  _ can _ be taught after all. A fine thing, too. I’d hate to waste my time trying to shape you into a suitable leader or worse, try to teach you a little of the world around you if you’re unwilling to take my guidance.” 

“I’m sorry, I’ll do better. I can listen, I’ll learn, I promise!” He swore. 

Solas feigned disbelief, staring at him long enough to make him nervous. 

“I...I’ll even stop hesitating! Honest…if someone means to attack, I’ll fight back.” He said. 

He still didn’t look at him intentionally. “Yes, so you claim, but last time, you had a chance to prove you could and you failed. You had to be reminded.” 

“I’ll prove it to you. Next time.” Jack insisted. 

Solas hummed thoughtfully. “I suppose we shall see. No harm in a small reward if you manage to surprise me.” 

It was like watching a dog, eager to please. The only thing missing was the wagging tail. To think it only took pretending to be disappointed and a little pain to convince him. So that was one of his motivators. Praise, attention, punishment, he ate it up gladly. He’d even managed to get a thank you for the trouble. Now if only he didn’t require additional prompting, he’d be off to a halfway decent start. 

Solas moved away from him, secretly pleased when he scrambled to his feet, twisting his hair between his fingers, biting his lip like he was uncertain what he meant to do once he was standing. 

“I’ll take my leave now. Undoubtedly we’ll be leaving soon again. Do come get me when it’s time.” He said. 

Jack watched him leave, Varric standing at the door with his hand raised like he had been about to knock. Solas nodded to him on his way out. 

“Master Tethras.” He said in passing. 

“Chuckles.” Varric replied. 

  
  



	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack reflects on his current task, his new coat, the first time he met the Commander. He keeps his word and makes a kill at the end of a blade, and Solas plays nice in an effort to test a new hypothesis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve still got no idea where the line is. I might have crossed it, I might be nowhere near, but I’m enjoying this angle of Solas at least. Jack is so much fun, he’s just so willing to deal with it if it means he’s not by himself. Poor thing.

Jack hummed cheerfully despite having to essentially turn right back around after only a few short hours to rest. Leliana had asked him to go back to the Hinterlands to track down a Grey Warden by the name of Blackwall before he had a chance to leave the area, the only reason for such pressing urgency. She’d also passed along a message on behalf of a human when he’d made sure to keep a distance. Go to the Storm Coast, watch a mercenary company and decide if they were good enough to recruit for the Inquisition. 

The reason for his cheer was in part getting to see a new place that sounded excitingly right up his alley, and the coat Cullen had delivered. He was relieved he seemed not to have thought much of their first meeting, it had lingered in the recesses of his mind in a way that left him constantly mentally kicking himself. 

_“Mythal save me but you’re_ **_big_** _!” He said._

_Leliana laughed behind her palm, and both were left red-faced and flustered by the comment until he stumbled over an explanation that Dalish elves simply didn’t get that tall or broad._

He held out the coat to him, saying “Leliana asked that I make sure you have this on your way out.” 

Those serving as his advisors and what few he’d had contact with in his short time were just fine. He just hadn’t quite learned not to be concerned by the presence of humans. 

Jack snuggled into it with a pleased sigh, still managing to be aware of any unusual movement, anything out of the ordinary. Some part of him was ashamed how much he hoped they might be attacked, if only to keep his word. He _wanted_ to make Solas proud of him. He had no idea what the reward might be, and he didn’t rightly care, a more secret part of him was leaning more towards disappointing him again, on purpose, if only to see what he’d do to him if he did. Shameful to think that way, not at all normal, he assumed. 

His hand briefly touched where he had marked him, face warm and stomach tense. Why did something he shouldn’t enjoy leave him wanting? More, or maybe less importantly, how was it that he seemed to know? Was it really that he figured it out from that one accidental moment? He hadn’t exactly ever let that out to anyone, like a secret with just himself. 

Magic was an unfortunate thing to learn to control, and one too many burns, a shock more than was wise, and he had learned something about himself he very much liked kept under the rug. Solas was worldly, and brilliant, and refused to suffer his fumbling ineptitude. He was...he didn’t know how to finish that, but he knew the feelings he was aiming for, joy, and sorrow, and no...there was a missing word he couldn’t fill in. 

“Oh no…” Jack mumbled. “I don’t recall anyone telling me where he was…” 

“Then I suggest we set camp and instruct the scouts to spread out and keep an eye out for him.” Cassandra said. 

He nodded, frowning. He hadn’t wanted to disappoint so quickly. If it were just him, he could have continued, would have, if only to prove he was capable of more than it seemed. 

Varric pointed out an ideal spot, walking ahead until they heard Jack’s choked gasp. Turning around, they saw a man with his arm firmly across his throat, cutting off his air if only just, not enough so he couldn’t breathe at all, but it was difficult. He felt a blade, short, probably a dagger pressing against his lower back, not enough to cut, but enough so the tip dug in slightly, warmth on his skin that seemed to suggest he was bleeding. 

“I see that hand. I know who you are!” He declared gleefully. “Hand over your weapons, coin and valuables and I don’t have to kill your _precious_ Herald.” 

“I’m n—not…” he managed. 

Beyond Varric loading Bianca despite his threat, and Cassandra unsheathing her sword, Jack managed to zero in on Solas, utterly calm, arms tucked behind his back, not even bothering to go for his staff. He looked almost _expectant._ How was he supposed to fight back like this?

No, that was it. He _could_. 

Concentrating as much as he could while his head swam, flirting with unconsciousness briefly, he held up his unmarked hand, palm back, there was a blinding flash, a moment when the man panicked, the blade digging in more, before he let go. He curled his fingers loosely, gasping for air. A bolt of lightning struck, leaving the man gurgling and writhing. Jack held his throat, blinking hard to focus. Retrieving his staff, he brought it down awkwardly across his throat. Catching his breath finally, he covered his mouth, gagging harshly at the thought he had well and truly just murdered him in cold blood. Granted he had already hurt him, threatened his life. It was protecting himself and his companions. It didn’t help make it less upsetting, but he had done it, kept his word. 

He stood by while the scouts, who seemed to come out of nowhere, assembled the camp, speaking briefly with Cassandra. She instructed them to keep an eye out for the Warden, Varric the first to retire rather quickly, muttering something about too much excitement for one night. Cassandra turned in shortly after when one scout insisted they’d keep watch. Solas waved him to follow, ducking into the last tent, furthest away from the camp, near the water, where the babble of a small waterfall drowned out the sounds from the others. 

“I’m...I…” he trailed off, unsure what he meant to finish that with. 

Solas lightly ran his fingers through his hair. He knew very well the small cut on his back probably hurt. Exactly why he opted to ignore it for the moment. His reward first. Much as he didn’t particularly enjoy lavishing this sort of attention on one so unworthy of it, he had to encourage his odd fascination. He quietly braided his hair, allowing him to settle against his chest. Jack sucked up the attention with a pleased sigh. He was never one for braids in his own hair, before he got rid of it, but him? He supposed it would suit him well enough. 

“You smell like home…” he murmured quietly. 

His fingers slowed at that. How he would know a thing like that escaped him, but he wasn’t wrong. Jack _should_ recognize the scent, even if only a vague memory blurred by youth and time. He nudged him to sit up when he finished, moving him to his stomach to assess his condition. He was necessary, after all. No sense letting him keep wounds that could get infected. There were plenty _he_ could, and _would_ induce that would be comparatively harmless to him. 

Solas lifted the layers carefully, examining the small cut. It wasn’t deep, not too long, nothing to be overly concerned about so long as it was cleaned and treated. Or…his command of the elements wasn’t his specialty, but it would certainly do the job. 

He left long enough to find a suitably solid chunk of wood, one that wouldn’t break very easily. Coming back in, he again sat over him, instructing him to bite down on the wood as hard as he could. Jack obeyed with a curious sort of huff. Solas held his head down against the pillow, both to keep him just so and to muffle the sounds he would most certainly make. His other hand hovered inches above his skin, crackling with the sound of a freshly sparked fire. Jack writhed when he felt it just barely above his skin, already anticipating what the sudden heat was for. His skin sizzled angrily at the contact, careful and measured enough to cauterize the small wound. Jack bucked and thrashed, but Solas was undeterred, the sounds he made a mix of screaming and moaning, buried almost completely. He moved off him slowly, bending down. He blew softly on it, watching his skin erupt in goosebumps, chuckling quietly when he squeezed his thighs together anxiously. Good reason or not, he wasn’t quite certain he would get away with it so easily without some mitigation. 

“I apologize if that hurt. It was the most efficient way to keep you safe.” He said. 

Jack sobbed quietly, setting the stick aside when he was certain he wouldn’t scream again. He hesitantly turned over, teeth gritted when it hurt freshly. He squeezed his thighs together again, hissing out slowly. 

“Th...thank you.” He choked. 

Solas fought to look suitably subdued rather than showing the grin he struggled to hide. He’d still like to test a few more things, some damage control. No sense sending him away before he was certain if it would even work. 

“Stay here. Many clans sleep close, you’ve been away from home for so long, I’m sure you must miss it.” He suggested. 

Jack thought back. It wasn’t quite as clear as he remembered it, but he could _barely_ grasp memories of sleeping in small groups to save limited space. Maybe that was the strange emptiness he felt? Maybe he did miss being physically close to another of his kind. 

“If that’s alright with you…” he said quietly. 

Rather than extend the invitation a second time, Solas stretched out as much as he typically did. He didn’t require much space as it was, he could make due with him in the limited space of the bedroll. He pretended to be surprised when Jack insinuated himself into his space, curled against him comfortably. In truth, it was what he expected. He needed him to be comfortable enough to sleep so he could keep updated mental notes on what worked and what didn’t. Solas held onto him loosely, feeling him relax easily. He was patient, he’d wait as long as it took him to get to sleep. 

Three simple words. Impressive how much it already controlled him, imagining the array and value of such a useful phrase? Part of him abhorred the idea of using them, but the true fault wasn’t _his._ He wasn’t the one who thought to forge this weapon, he hadn’t very specifically shaped him in such a way, and truthfully, he would have delighted in the aftermath _regardless_ of the outcome. It was just fortunate timing that his own plans interfered and he had first encountered it. Fortune smiled brighter on him to drop him in that temple _precisely_ when it was most useful to him. 

The soft sound of even breathing lured him from his thoughts. His mouth hovered close to his ear, barely above a whisper. Jack twitched, sighing quietly. For a moment, he thought he was waking, until he settled again. He supposed there was no sense waiting for the sun to come up. He’d have his answer in the morning regardless whether he stayed up or slept. Solas got as comfortable as he could like this. At least he didn’t smell as offensive as the mongrel he compared him to. The smell of blood and pine were individually not his favorites, but together, on him? He could perhaps get used to it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, no spoilers for those that don’t already know, but Jack has an innate command of Storm-aspected magic, fire and light, just like a certain someone that if y’all haven’t caught on to, Solas is far from fond of.


	10. Chapter 10

Jack woke early when he felt the chill of the air. Unconsciously realizing that meant he was alone. In the distance, he could hear Cassandra moving around. He pulled his pack over his shoulder, leaving to catch up to the others. Rubbing sleep bleary eyes, he stretched slowly. 

“Right! Was there any information yet?” he asked. 

“Lucky for you, Freckles, they spotted someone who might be your guy just up the bank here.” Varric said cheerfully. 

He clapped a hand at his back, very near his fresh burn. Solas watched intently, pleased when he didn’t even twitch. So it had worked. He imagined he couldn’t reasonably get him to ignore severe injuries, but milder would be manageable. This was bound to come in handy…

Jack smiled, a small, fragile one, but filled with hope and relief. “I’m so glad it’s not that far.” 

Leading the way, he climbed the bank, the dirt pleasantly dry. Mud was so much more difficult to move in, and if he could help it, he avoided it. Too many faded memories of having to help unstick the aravels, or having to help pull someone from unexpectedly deeper sludge. Brushing off his hands, he paused by the water to wash them. Again, he imagined them dripping with blood, worsened with every dip into the water. Biting his lip, he stood up, pressing on despite that unsettling feeling. The Inquisition needed him. He was important, he had to live. The Inquisition demanded he kill,  _ Solas _ demanded he kill. He repeated every line over and over like a mantra, bracing himself just in case it became necessary to fight. 

“You alright kid? You seem more tense than normal. Just breathe, you’ll be alright.” Varric told him. 

“I’m a little tense, yes…” he admitted. “I’m worried we’ll be attacked. I’m...I’m still not used to the killing.” 

“Freckles, that doesn’t really get better. No one just wakes up and decides they’re over it. At best you just learn to not let it bother you so much.” Varric explained. 

“Is Hawke like that too?” He asked curiously. 

Varric had regaled him with a few stories, and it was refreshing to hear that someone so clearly heroic sounding was also very normal in some ways. 

“Oh yeah. Lot of nights spent drinking over somber, serious conversation over morality, and if it was all justified, whether it made him a terrible person for the things he had done.” he admitted. “That said, if the intent is clearly to cause you harm, I’d say maybe don’t get hung up on it. Not like you’re out killing people who are just minding their business.”

Solas looked poised to say something, until Jack ran ahead, skidding to a stop when the man and a few nervous looking humans engaged loud, aggressive men clearly more familiar with combat. 

Jack licked his lips, eyes flitting back and forth, opting to mirror the others and stay back unless someone came at him. More focused on the others. He sighed in relief. Instead watching the one who seemed to be in charge. He looked normal, but the way he held his shield, and attacked not hiding behind it, but strategically raising it to deflect blows. 

He stopped to address the men and Jack found it curious that they turned and left, save the man with the shield. Taking a chance, he slowly made his way over to him. He cleared his throat, voice cutting out on him nervously. He held his staff tightly, leaning on it for support. 

“A-are you the Warden, Blackwall?” He asked. 

He turned to face him, sheathing his sword as he looked him over, eyes falling on the glimmering mark on his hand. 

“Inquisition? You must be the Herald of Andraste?” He asked. “What could you possibly want with me?” 

“I was sent to find you...to ask if you knew where the other Wardens went…? Is...are you alone?” Jack stood taller, trying to channel a little of both Solas’ quiet power and veins of Varric’s relaxed control. “Right, my name is Jack…” 

“Jack?” Blackwall repeated. “I can’t say where the others went, just been out here by myself, recruiting where I can help. I let them go when they can defend themselves.” 

He knew nothing of the Wardens. Clans sometimes gave over people to help, that was all he recalled. Maybe someone knew and could explain later? 

“I’m pleased to see you’re alright. I suppose I’ll have to keep looking...Maybe there’s a lead?” Jack wondered, more out loud than to anyone specific. “We’ll be out of your way now.” 

“Excuse me.” He called when he turned. “Could your Inquisition use a Warden?” 

Jack glanced to Cassandra for that specific inquiry. She waved a dismissive hand that normally meant it was his choice. Maybe Leliana would be able to talk to him and get the information she wanted properly? “Yes. Go to the camp down the hill, they can give you directions to Haven…” 

Blackwall nodded to him, heading off ahead. He was confused. Cassandra seemed alright with the decision and Varric seemed proud of him, but rather than unreadably neutral as usual, maybe he imagined it, but it seemed like Solas disapproved? He couldn’t imagine why, Leliana specifically asked him to find this man, and the others were alright with it. Had he done something wrong? 

“S—so...Storm Coast is next right? We might as well head out instead of going back?” He suggested nervously. 

“Might as well.” Varric agreed. “It’s a few days out, I hope you don’t mind rain.”

Jack gave it some thought. He wasn’t quite sure the last time it rained. He couldn’t recall specific feelings one way or the other. Then again, the thought of storms conjured a gentle spark over his skin, raising his hair a little. That was exciting to him for reasons he wasn’t sure about except to say powerful things drew him like a moth to a flame. Fire, storms, radiant, burning energy, all of it was thrilling to him, natural. 

“I don’t suspect I’ll feel much less beyond enjoyment.” He replied after a moment. “It sounds like a place I’ll find pleasant.” 

Varric laughed at that. “Somehow I’m not surprised. I always seem to meet the oddballs.”

“Excuse me?” Cassandra interjected. 

“You don’t have an odd bone in your body, Seeker. You’re exempt from that.” He said, a hint of sarcasm in his tone. “Anyway, I made sure to pack my cards, if we get a chance I’ll get back to teaching you a few games.” 

“I’m not sure if I remember much.” He admitted. 

“I’ll give you a refresher.” Varric promised. 

“We’re on business, Varric. Why you’ve made plans to gamble, I’m at a loss.” Cassandra sighed. 

“Hey, no gambling yet. He’s not ready for that yet.” He said. 

“I do wish you’d stop distracting him. The time is best spent ensuring he’s as prepared as he can be. We need a  _ Herald _ , not for him to be distracted with card games and drinking.” Solas lectured critically.

“Okay, okay, you win.” He relented. Once they had looked away, he quickly gestured that he wasn’t serious, pointing to his pocket where he kept the cards. “Guess we could always play ‘I Spy’ to pass the time?” 

Cassandra made a face, grunting in disgust. Solas looked away, pretending not to have heard what he said. Sometimes, it paid to be so painfully clever. 

  
  
  
  



	11. Chapter 11

The trip to the Storm Coast was several largely uneventful days of walking and camping. By the time they reached it, Varric was fairly confident Jack could at least hold his own. He was no card shark yet, but he  _ could  _ be. The potential was there. Solas had resumed leaving at night, insisting that he not follow, something that should have seemed normal, but made him wonder if he had done something to make him upset with him. Cassandra was much the same as ever. Occasionally she would make an attempt at conversation.

“Your clan was in the Free Marches? How did you find it compared to Haven?” She asked stiffly. 

It was somewhat curious to him. Was it a human thing? Both Cassandra and Cullen were fierce, tough combatants, he’d seen personally in some cases and heard stories in others. Yet when it came to talking and even being alone around him they both seemed uncomfortable. Was that humans in general or...was it him? Were they uneasy around him? 

“I...yes, near Ostwick.” He said finally. “I must not have paid much attention, or maybe it’s just been a while? Maybe the explosion knocked more of my memories away than I thought, but I can’t recall much about it. I remember trees…” pausing, he closed his eyes, steps still as steady and straight as if he could see everything. Trying to recapture the memories, he dropped to a very quiet level. “Stars in the night sky like flecks of paint on a dark canvas. Shadows creeping like jagged teeth along the trees, sharp winds sheltered by the mountain peaks…” 

Try as he might, he couldn’t recall many faces, figures, silhouettes, but blurry faces all around. Why was this so hard? Why was it so uncomfortable to find only blank spaces in the recesses of his memory? Did he truly feel so alone that his mind had simply erased them to accommodate that lonely feeling?

“Haven is fine. I wish there were more trees, but I like to watch sunrise on the edge of the village. I prefer the comfort of my room. It’s very cold.” He said. Tugging the edges of his coat, he looked a little happier. “It’s not so much of a problem anymore.” 

“But you like storms, even though the rain is cold?” Varric asked. 

“It’s a different cold. It doesn’t cut to the bone so quickly.” Jack explained. “It’s less the rain that I like, but it’s certainly pretty.” 

It didn’t take much time once they’d arrived to get a camp set up, light already vanishing. They might have enough to find the mercenary company and make it back to camp before it was unwise to wander. Jack carefully slid down the hill, no real friction on the wet rock and grass. Thankfully it seemed he had good balance at least. It would have been unfortunate to tumble down the hill in front of...it would have been embarrassing. 

“Hear that, Freckles? Sounds like fighting. Must be getting closer.” Varric said, tapping his arm when he caught up. 

Jack turned his gaze to the rolling waves at first, distracted by the way it clashed noisily against rock, the sky almost as bright as day, darkening sky momentarily cleaved by brilliant flashes of lightning. He gasped, clapping his hand over his mouth for a moment. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean that. Isn’t it beautiful though?” He sighed. 

“It  _ is _ lovely…” Solas said, almost grudgingly. 

He tore his attention away, nodding towards a skirmish he saw taking place by the shore. “That must be them?” 

Jack gripped his staff, taking a few steps, fiery sparks threatening to ignite, Varric grabbed his arm. 

“They said  _ watch _ right? Let’s sit this one out. You’re supposed to see if they’re worth it.” Varric suggested. 

“You would stop him from doing the one thing we’ve been  _ trying  _ to get him to do?” Solas asked. 

“No shortage of enemies here. Not like he won’t have a chance on the way back tomorrow.” Varric answered, 

Jack wandered closer, standing off to the side, but close enough to watch from a good vantage point. This was something he could do quite readily. Looking back several times out of anxiety that he’d suddenly miss where his backside was aiming, he took a seat on a tangled bit of driftwood. It almost looked like a throne, if one squinted hard enough, oddly quite comfortable. 

He looked to everyone he could see, dwarves, elves, one very clearly a mage, the other different in the way she moved and fought. Not Dalish? Maybe closer to Sera in terms of where she might be from? The man from before leaned into a shield strike, knocking another man down, where a massive, horned man slammed down a weapon that required both large hands to swing down on him. 

He put a hand to his mouth, eyes wide. They needed him.  _ He _ needed him. That was the man to teach him how  _ not _ to get hung up on a fight. He was already covered in blood and viscera, and rather than being put off by it, it seemed to excite him in some primal way, driven to keep tearing through until the last had fallen. 

“What...what  _ is  _ he?” Jack asked, amazed. 

He was unlike anyone he’d seen before, and the experience was both fascinating and terrifying. 

“That would be a Qunari, Freckles. Saw plenty in Kirkwall. They took over the city and killed the Viscount. However, bear in mind that  _ doesn’t _ mean he’s going to do anything like that. In fact, I’d say he was a definite asset.” Varric told him. 

Jack looked to Solas. “Have you met Qunari before?” 

Solas made a face that spoke volumes. Something about the question or maybe the answer caused his face to twist in distaste. 

“I know what the Qun is like. It is little better than slavery. It takes away even your thoughts. It is vile.” He muttered. 

Cassandra interjected. “Our feelings on the subject aren’t what matter.  _ You _ were asked to come watch.  _ You _ are the one who decides if they’re worth it to hire.” 

Jack nervously massaged his knees, sighing quietly. That was asking a lot for him to choose. Retrieving his staff after a time, he pushed himself to his feet, walking over to speak privately with their leader. 

Varric watched everything, body language, read what little he could from their lips. Sometimes it paid to pay attention to all the details. Cassandra examined her sword and shield thoroughly before putting them away. Solas focused instead on Jack, not fully certain what he might choose, but hoping he considered everything thoroughly before making hasty decisions. 

After what felt like almost  _ too  _ long to be a simple yes or no answer, Jack looked up, then back, nodding slowly. He returned alone, easy to assume that he had refused, he gestured to the group to follow him back up the hill to the camp. 

“They’re going on ahead to Haven, not terribly concerned about the dark. I mentioned we’d make camp. The Iron Bull even agreed to teach me!” He said proudly. “I’ll be more useful.” 

Varric stopped when they reached the camp. “Really bothers you, huh?” 

“I was my clan’s First. I know  _ how _ to fight, I just...never had to kill anything except hunting rarely. I’m  _ capable _ , just not…” he trailed off. “He seems very efficient, unfettered. He must have useful advice. I would be remiss if I didn’t take advantage of resources.” 

Solas once more looked incredibly neutral, voice almost, gentle, even. “I do believe I offered to teach you. I  _ am  _ a mage. I’d be quite happy to help.” 

“I...of course, I’d be grateful for any help.” He said. Did he offend by asking someone else? Not a good place to ask. It would keep, wouldn’t it?” 

Jack instinctively followed Varric, getting accustomed to late night card games and Solas leaving again. His hand curled around his shoulder, gently guiding him away from the tent and to the one at the furthest edge of the camp. He swallowed nervously, wondering if he was in for a lecture...


	12. Chapter 12

Solas went about his business, saying nothing,  _ doing nothing _ . Was he upset with him? He made use of a small table in the corner, writing something out slowly. Jack tried to mind his business, he couldn’t see what he was writing, only that there was something almost mesmerizing in the way his hands moved. Steady, fluid, graceful he even dared to say. 

He stopped, looking over his shoulder as if he could sense him looking. Assuming he found it uncomfortable or annoying, he prepared to turn away, surprised by the shift in his usual demeanor. 

“You’re paying awfully close attention.” Solas noted. “Would you care to watch?” 

Jack moved to stand, though he stopped part way, just in case it was only a question and not an offer. 

“Come, sit here.” he said, nodding to the space beside him. 

Jack moved where he indicated, hands folded in his lap. He might lack the sort of sharp instincts the others had, but in a way, he was still very disciplined. Directing his focus to the page. Writing something, but he couldn’t understand it beyond an incredibly vague sentiment. A few words made sense but it was clearly unfinished. He recognized it as being elven in nature, but it had to be an older variant. Perhaps a remnant from the days of Arlathan that he had witnessed in the Fade? 

“I may not have Varric’s flair for embellishing a tale, but I do enjoy simple writing on occasion. I prefer the arts.” Solas admitted. 

“I had no idea you were an artist. I should very much welcome a chance to watch you at work someday. I can only imagine what those hands could create…” Jack sighed. 

“You like art?” Solas asked, genuinely curious. 

_ He  _ had no concern for anything that required creativity. If it wasn’t uniform and easily understood in functionality, he hated it. The idea that Jack might be different was truly interesting. 

“I do. Music, art…” he nodded to the paper, “writing. It’s one part of my education I enjoyed. The statues are lovely, paintings...pottery, architecture. It’s all breathtaking, and I keenly feel it, what’s been lost. I may not know much about like before the Dalish, but I know there was more, so much more that we can only fumble and attempt to piece together” 

Solas listened to him. He wouldn’t have had much memory of such a time, but it made sense to realize how far things had shifted from the age when Elves were at the pinnacle of everything. Holding back a pleased smirk, he stopped, holding out his hands, palm up to him. So maybe his pride did occasionally get in the way, and  _ maybe _ knowing how desperate he was for his attention and presence came with the perk that he would stroke his ego in a way he hadn’t felt in many long years. 

“You mentioned something of my hands. What about them interests you?” He asked. 

Jack swallowed anxiously. Almost too gentle as though not allowed or out of a misplaced fear he’d cause damage if he was anything but. His fingertips gently traced a pattern up and down each finger, swirling down to the center of his palms. He didn’t have much of a gift for words, rarely having a way he recalled things in his mind that might have been better worded, but not like this. 

“They’re…” he frowned, unable to find the words. “Visually pleasant, free of imperfections, soft. I’ve seen you do things both deadly and alive?” He wasn’t sure if it made sense. “I’ve seen you do this now, such delicate work, and…” he paused, looking to his torso. “I know how rough and strong they can be. Everything about these hands is something I could only vainly aspire to…” 

Solas took a slow, deep breath. Not as articulate as it could have been, yet it was satisfactory praise. He moved his hands away, reaching up to brush the braids out of the way of his face. His thumbs trailed up his ears, high and back unlike those of the city elves, different from most elves, actually. Jack licked his lips slowly, looking away. 

“Oh? Does that tickle?” He asked. 

“N—not particularly. It...it’s something else entirely.” He mumbled. 

As if he was unaware his attention naturally drifted to men. Even if he had no personal desire for someone, it was all too obvious his eyes lingered curiously at times in ways they simply didn’t with women. Never once had his eyes left Cassandra, or Josephine or even Leliana’s eyes. Very respectful, certainly, but it was becoming terribly natural for him to leave his eyes to drift lower before jumping back up warily. 

“So tell me, what is it you want me to do with these hands? Remember, I  _ know _ when you lie to me, and I don’t like it.” Solas asked, a sliver of severity in his tone. 

Jack bit his lip. He didn’t want to say, not and open himself up to judgment, not when he could barely admit such things to himself, let alone out loud. Reaching for them, he guided them just below his neck, where throat met chest, letting go long enough to mimic the way he had scratched him before. His face flushed with shame and anxiety, unable to look at him, stomach tense and knotted in pain. 

He left the page, pushing him back, leaning over him until he was all he could see, darkness silhouetted against the soft flickering glow of his hand. 

“Take it off.” He demanded, words quiet but inviting no questions. “The tunic as well.”

Jack’s hands lingered for a moment, before he pulled his layers off, bare from waist up, covering himself in some misplaced bit of shyness. Solas pulled them away, straddling his hips. Despite looking like he was concerned he might devour him, he was still, didn’t move except a brief moment where his fingers brushed his knees curiously before falling to his sides. So he really  _ did _ trust him. Interesting. 

“It may be obvious, but do be quiet. No reason to disturb the others.” He reminded him. 

His hands first circled his neck, pressing loosely. He didn’t squeeze, didn’t try to cut off his breath. That wasn’t what he intended, but he  _ was _ curious to know what he’d look like, gasping and gurgling beneath him. Jack simply tipped his head back, offering more of his throat to him in such a way that was almost too much of a temptation to resist. His touch wandered down, pausing a little past his collarbone, 

Solas watched intently, dragging blunt nails firmly into his skin, reddened skin torn easily. Jack bit his lip hard enough to leave red marks. It was good he was so eager to please, he held back most of the sounds of his discomfort save a quiet, whimper. He crossed them on the second pass, lattice lines across his chest. Red was truly a lovely color on him. The third time, he traveled the length of his torso, from chest to waist, staring when he tried to pull away from him. As though he didn’t notice the way he was  _ reacting  _ to it. Solas moved off him, pretending to be unaware of his predicament, instead content to leave him gasping and trembling. He tensely squeezed his thighs together, watching Solas dip his hands in the wooden basin and dry them off. 

“One moment.” He announced. 

He briefly chose a separate piece of parchment, curious to test out yet another new idea. This was not as neat. Still carefully written script. He was glad few bothered to study the language. 

Solas set a small bottle next to him, but said nothing about it. Holding the parchment up in front of his eyes, he spoke quietly. 

“Drink that down.” He instructed. 

Jack reached for it, struggling with the stopper. When he got it open, he drank it all, setting it aside. Aside from the red drops left on his skin, there was nothing to indicate he had ever been less than his normal. Solas wiped away the blood with a scrap of cloth, nodding to his clothes, he spoke again, handing him the parchment once more. He stared at it almost in reflection. 

“You came in here to watch me write. You’ve hurt yourself on the jagged rocks. I helped you. You’re  _ so clumsy… _ truly fortunate I was here to help you out.” He said calmly and gently. 

Jack’s eyes seemed to lose focus, staring blankly at the paper until he took it away. Tucking it under the writing he had been working on, he looked over at him. 

“What’s wrong?” Solas asked. 

“I...can’t believe I made such a fool of myself in front of you.” He sighed, frowning. 

“It happens. I took care of it. No harm done. You  _ were _ telling me about your interest in art. I’d be happy to continue that discussion before we go to sleep.” He suggested. 

“I... _ we? _ You’re not leaving?” Jack asked hopefully. 

“No, I don’t want to leave you by yourself, just in case you have need of me.” Solas said. 

“Thank you…” Jack breathed. “I was...I’m glad you’re here.” 

For the life of him it seemed there was a small one or two second gap in his memory, in which he swore there was something different about Solas he couldn’t put his finger on. These memory gaps were worrisome. He hoped it wasn’t a stress thing. 


	13. Chapter 13

Several days later, Jack and the others walked back through the gates. He’d have liked a bit to rest up, but with the Breach still present, he knew that wasn’t going to be an option. Leliana stood by the door to the chantry, waving him over when she spotted him. Varric shook his head, sighing. 

“Well, I was going to suggest you rest while you have the chance, but it doesn’t seem like either of us will get to. Come get me when you find out where we’re going. I’ll go gather some  _ supplies _ .” He said. 

Jack gave him a knowing look. His idea of supplies was a small leather bound book for taking notes, a minimum of one bottle of some sort of drink, and two decks of cards. One was worn, clearly special to him. He never used that deck, but he shuffled them as a sort of distraction while he told stories, something for his hands to keep busy with. The other was newer, definitely used for games. 

Waving to him when they parted ways, he jumped a little when Solas stopped him briefly. His words were so quiet, he had to lean in to hear him. He still only recalled just the end of it, “stand up straight.” It made such little sense, he could only smile and nod when he patted his shoulder in passing. Blinking slowly, he stood up straight, chin raised just a touch. 

Leliana waited for him, walking beside him on the way in. Curious how he appeared to have consciously or not begun to mirror the way Solas stood and walked. Perhaps it was good that he brought him everywhere. A good sign that his guidance was clearly taking effect. Even just from his arrival until now, there was noticeable, marked improvement in the way he was acting. 

She led him to the war room, Cullen, Josephine and Cassandra spaced around the table. He glanced away, briefly startled by how it felt he simply  _ couldn’t  _ bring himself to look away. 

“We’ve received the relevant reports, Blackwall and the Chargers arrived at various points ahead of your return. From the sounds of it, there was no trouble of note. Was there anything you wished to add in before we address the next steps?” Leliana asked. 

_ Maybe?  _ “No, thank you. Nothing of note happened.” Jack said. 

Why did it sound so unlike him? There was a confidence, almost an  _ authority _ that just weren’t words he’d ever associate with himself. It sounded more like...he couldn’t have done  _ this  _ much with a handful of lessons, could he? It was undeniably  _ his _ voice,  _ his _ words, but the way he said them felt strange to him. 

“Where am I going next?” He asked. 

“Ah. We still have yet to arrange a meeting in regards to the Templars.” Josephine admitted. “However, we  _ have  _ the invitation to Redcliffe that Grand Enchanter Fiona extended to you in Val Royeaux. I believe we finally have enough sway to convince her to rally the rebel mages for assistance with closing the Breach. I would not presume to tell you which to pursue, but it is at least  _ beneficial  _ to attend the meeting.” 

Jack looked at the map, following Cullen’s finger when he pointed to it. A bit further than the place he had found Mother Giselle. Not more than an extra hour or two’s walk. If he set out early enough, they’d make it before nightfall. Could even rent an actual room instead of sleeping outside. Creators, sleeping in an  _ actual _ bed...best if he not get too used to it. Wasn’t good to be too spoiled. His legs were still sore, but he was getting used to constantly being on the move. Made it much nicer when they finally got to stop for the night. The morning ache was killer though.

“I’ll be leaving then. With luck, we’ll arrive with enough time to have this meeting, rather than wait until morning.” Jack said quietly. 

He turned to leave, Cullen speaking up when Cassandra held up a piece of parchment. She had evidently been keeping track of what supplies were used and what needed to be replenished. 

“Ah, right. Wait by the gate before you set out, I’ll have these tracked down and brought to you.” He said. Pausing to read through, he could hear the crinkle when he shook it. “This can’t be everything? Hardly seems enough. It may be a bit longer, I know a few things missing from this list.” 

Jack blinked thoughtfully. Cassandra surely remembered everything, she wasn’t one to miss anything. Regardless, he turned to leave, walking back the way he came. He spoke to Varric first, on the way to find Solas. Cassandra had other business, didn’t she? Sera still didn’t care much from him. Vivienne frightened him, though he’d never tell her such a thing to her face. The display at her gathering hadn’t quite left his mind. Blackwall probably needed to talk to Leliana still. He supposed that just really left The Iron Bull. He gathered Solas first, struggling not to break out into a stupid grin at the way he smiled approvingly when he saw him. He wasn’t sure what he did, but that made him feel good.  _ Somehow, finally _ , he had really done something right. 

That smiled faded into a severe sort of expression when he ran ahead to talk to Bull. So it seemed he was bringing  _ him _ . Fine. He could adapt. Jack stood patiently by the gate when he had gathered everyone he intended to take with. He rocked back and forth on his heels briefly, standing quietly when he thought more about how he must look doing that. Why did  _ that _ matter? When had he decided to take this so seriously? When did all that concern melt away? Shouldn’t he feel more nervous and wary? 

“Here you are.” Cullen said. He held out his pack to him. It felt heavier, looked fuller than normal. “I added a few things that weren’t on the list but  _ should have been _ .” 

Jack slung it over his shoulder, gasping quietly. It even felt heavier. He wasn’t particularly strong, and it took a little conscious effort to balance it out. 

“Th—I…” he sighed, kneading his brow. Nope, there it was, tripping over his words all over again. Could he just  _ not _ do that? “Thank you.” 

He gave up trying to express anything beyond that sentiment of gratitude. Clearly, adding in “I appreciate that” was asking far too much. 

He turned to head back, and Jack found himself watching curiously, until he felt a tap on his shoulder, an indignant sound leaving his throat. 

“We should go. If you intend to make it before nightfall.” Solas reminded him. 

His eyes went wide, head tilting downward just a bit. He leaned into it, walking fast out the gate and down the path out of the village. Meeting Fiona, no one had said  _ where _ in Redcliffe, so he hoped someone would be able to direct him once they arrived. 

The outcome hardly mattered. He’d of course  _ prefer _ mages, but if he happened to opt to lean in favor of Templars, though  _ why would he _ ? There was still room to twist that into something beneficial to him. Solas had the means, and now he had options in how he used those means. A night spent in a city would be a fine opportunity as well. Luxuries were vastly out of Jack’s experience, and those afforded by a human establishment? He could make use of that. He’d be wary at first, but once his guard was down and he was utterly relaxed? Why not push back against the limits of what he could do  _ without _ demanding it? The closer he brought himself to him, presented himself as a figure he could trust and rely on, the only limits would be his to determine. 

By virtue of having ears like his, Jack had already decided he was plenty of things. A mentor,  _ friend _ , family, a guide, confidant. Someone he didn’t mind opening up to and being vulnerable around. Being able to get him to obey was always a little bit addictive. Imagine how much more so if it didn’t always require the use of those words? It would take precious little. 

“I’ve never been to Redcliffe. Is there anything special about it?” He wondered. 

“Was overrun by the undead during the last Blight.” Varric said. Used to be run by a guy named Eamon, but he left it to Teagan, the former Bann. King Alistair and the Hero of Ferelden saved it. I hear you can hardly tell.” Varric told him. 

Seeing the looks he was given, he shrugged. “News still travels and stories are kind of my thing.” 

Bull looked at him, and he looked back, there seemed to be some sort of look of understanding between them that went way over Jack’s fluffy head. His knee was starting to hurt. He hoped it wouldn’t be too long. Eager to be done walking for a little while. 


	14. Chapter 14

Jack hunched over, working to catch his breath just inside the gate. Dealing with rifts had been becoming normal, but that one was different. He didn’t have to be a genius to know something was definitely wrong here. Worse when the scout mentioned  _ no one _ was expecting him. Fiona asked him to come here. How could she not be expecting him? 

Trying to hide how nervous that was making him, he followed the path into the village. Varric pointed out the tavern. Jack glanced down to his feet briefly to ensure he wasn’t about to trip over his own feet. He didn’t know what to expect. Somehow, the magister being there to receive them, apparently having taken possession of the mages was nowhere on the list of possibilities. Everyone was varying levels of bothered by it, but he couldn’t recall much, if anything about Tevinter at all. He tried very hard to reach for any scrap of information, and came back empty. 

He sat across from the man, Gereon Alexius, he said. Still meant nothing in his mind, but he supposed that ‘magister’ was an important title. Jack sat up straight, leg draped comfortably over the other. This one was a tip from Leliana. Look nothing but at ease, take up space, don’t look like an easier target. He tipped his chin up slightly. 

“I would like to borrow your mages. I’m certain you’d like some guarantee that I don’t intend to do anything else? Perhaps you’d like something in exchange?” Jack asked. 

Creators, his stomach felt like it was melting. His nerves were completely shot, but he couldn’t collapse yet, he had to outlast this meeting before he let it all get to him. 

“It isn’t in doubt that I’ll lend them for the cause, of course. One can hardly ignore such a pressing issue, however there will need to be some points that should be elaborated further. Let’s discuss te—“ he stopped when his son staggered back in. 

Jack flew out of his chair, unsure what to do. He managed to catch and hold him so he wouldn’t topple to the ground, panicking. This wasn’t easing his mind, and in fact was just increasing his anxiety. Alexius pulled him upright, quickly taking his leave. He had no idea what to say, or what to do. Not until he took the time to read the note the man had slipped into his hand. 

Varric read it over his arm, sighing. “The chantry. Someone means to set us up one way or another.” 

Jack shrugged. “Well, what choice is there? The Templars won’t speak to us yet, we at least need to determine what the mages want.” Sighing, he took the upper path toward the chantry. “Let’s hope the price isn’t more than I can pay…” 

He put his palm flat on the door, originally intent to give himself just and extra second or two to try and talk himself out of this, when the mark began to pulse slightly. That couldn’t be right. There couldn’t be a rift in the  _ chantry _ …

Jack opened the door, frowning immediately when he saw the rift, demons crawling out of it like cockroaches. A man inside appeared to be fighting them off, a mage by the look of it. He glanced over his shoulder, nodding him over. 

“Help me with this, would you?” He asked. 

Solas grimaced at the phrasing. Far too close. Not exactly his fault his specific triggers weren’t exactly rare enough to be something only he’d think to say. Had to be relatively normal. Something able to be brought up organically in a normal conversation, he understood, but if others  _ knew _ ...that could ruin everything. 

He turned his attention to the fight in time to see a terror demon take Jack to the ground, claws dug into the sides of his neck. About to help, he hesitated, taking an involuntary step back when his body circulated with angry, sparking energy, eyes an eerie glowing gold that made him wary and disgusted all in one. It was like watching a small, targeted explosion. In theory it made sense, high speed, high energy fire striking storms sparking a hyper focused blast. In practice, he definitely hadn’t taught him that. 

Jack got up to his feet, touching his neck. Not bleeding, but it certainly stung. He tossed a fireball at another demon when the first had vanished. It screeched and flailed, unable to put itself out before it burst into nothingness. Demons were easy to kill, he had no problem with demons. People were the problem, he couldn’t find it easy to reconcile the full picture. Bull cut through the last and immediately Jack held his hand up, eager to be done with the whole matter. Sucking in a sharp breath, he held his hand out, less concerned with him being human at the moment than with regulating himself in real time. 

“Jack. Were...was it you who sent this then?” he asked. 

“Someone had to warn you. There’s more going on than it seems.” He said, shaking his hand. “Dorian.” 

“The man who gave me this…?” He said. 

“Felix. He should be here shortly, unless he’s become much better at these performances.” Dorian replied idly. 

Dorian watched the door for a moment, sighing more to himself when several minutes stretched by and nothing happened. 

“Well. Anyway.” He began. “There’s a cult that for whatever reason is rather obsessed with you. Alexius has joined. That’s the incredibly brief version. I’m sure Felix will be here soon enough to fill you in on the rest soon. 

“The Venatori, a cult of Tevinter supremacists. They’ll do anything to get their hands on you.” Felix said, walking in finally. 

“There’s a lot more to it than that, but let’s leave it at time magic. You must have noticed it. Not just in the flow of that fight, but no one expecting you to show up?” Dorian added. 

“Why she didn’t remember meeting me in Val Royeaux, and why it felt so odd that no one knew we were coming…” Jack realized. 

Had it not already been part of the plan, he might have insisted they not stay in the village and instead stay at camp. Surely he wouldn’t attempt anything so openly? Then again...cultists sounded bad. A cult that wanted him, would they actually refrain if he was this close? 

Almost as though he had voiced his concerns, Varric shook his head. 

“You’re not exactly alone. To get to you, they’d have to find you first, and that means going through us. Not gonna happen. Besides. He seems more the type who would want to even the odds. He’ll try to get you alone rather than risk being outnumbered.” He said. 

Jack thought about it for a bit. “So really, the best thing I could do is make sure I’m never around him alone? How hard can that be?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not 100% set yet, but there might be something in the next chapter. I don’t even know what level of ‘something’.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I may have been enabled to do some smut before I had intended to. I’m not even sure if it’s good, but here’s a thing!

Tevinter complicated everything. A  _ cult  _ interested in Jack? That was trouble. He hadn’t put in even this much work to have someone else challenging him like this. Exactly what Alexius had done whether he knew it or not. He had a motive to get Jack out of the picture, but that would be removing something he regrettably had such great need of. 

A threat, even indirect, couldn't be suffered without an answer. Solas paced outside, busy thinking this over. Obviously this meant Jack had to address Alexius directly. To do so might well cut them off from the Templars, but that hardly bothered him. Doubtful Jack would even be terribly broken up over such a thing. 

There were no words sufficient to describe how it felt to have no choice but to work with him. Then again. He supposed there was an argument that the  _ “creators” _ could see from behind their prison. If so, he very much hoped  _ he  _ appreciated the show.. Not every day one got to watch their legacy get twisted around and pointed at them. He wandered back in, going up the stairs to the furthest back room. He opened the door, 

half expecting to see Jack waiting somewhere close to the door. 

The room was well heated, warmer than he cared for. Solas undressed from the waist up, laying his clothes over the back of a chair. Well, he’d be the first in sometime to find him even this undressed. Rounding a divider, he glanced to the bath. Jack had his hair down plastered against his chest, arms hung over the sides, one leg hanging out over the edge. He didn’t seem to find it unpleasant in any way, soaking up the heat with a heavy sigh. Solas could see curls of steam rising off his skin, this one appeared to be heated by rune, but almost as though he sensed him, he held up a finger, a thin wisp of fire sparking briefly. 

“I didn’t realize I could use my magic to heat water. This whole time I’ve been freezing…” he pouted. 

_ Well of course you can. More versatile than most mages, or you  _ _ would _ _ be if you’d only stop to listen to me.  _

That was a thought. Strictly speaking, in his mind, he wasn’t a  _ person _ , the thought of such a thing made him want to laugh at the absurdity. But...oh, that  _ could _ be interesting. 

_ “Are you looking? Can you see what I’ve already done? Can you see what more I’ll do?” Solas thought.  _

He grabbed a chair, sitting behind him. His hands trailed water up his chest back and forth, slow, eyes fluttering shut when his touch went higher, up over his most recent scars, claw marks silvery and thin. Jack clutched the sides of the bath, gasping when he dug his fingers into the claw marks on either side of his neck. 

“How does that feel?” Solas asked. 

“I...f—fu…” he groaned, words failing to form beyond broken sentiments. “It’s…”

He twined his fingers in his hair, pulling his head to the side. His teeth grazed the edge of his ear, biting his neck roughly enough to leave bruising purple marks around and along the wounds. Jack’s head swam, dizzy and unfocused. Gods but no one had done anything quite like this before. Not even anything to hide the evidence from him. Embarrassing. Shameful. He shouldn’t be reacting like this, what would he think? Some kid who got wound up too easily, had it too bad for him if it took such things to put him in this state. 

He felt fingers lightly trailing his thigh, the warmth of words whispered just past his ear. Filthy, shameful things he hadn’t imagined someone as clever and worldly as him would even say. 

“I...it doesn’t bother you that I’m…?” He asked nervously. 

He’d made the suggestion he follow him out by the fire, offered to pick up where he’d quite intentionally left off. Maybe this was all some dream he really shouldn’t be having. 

“In some ways it’s more fun. Every sound you make, every look on your face, all because of me, all  _ for _ me? What’s not to like. An experienced lover could just as well be lost on a past encounter. Not so with one such as you.” Walking him out to the rug by the fire, he eased him down, not moving to join him. If it had come to this, he’d still have to earn it. “Come here.” 

He set his palms on his thighs, instructing him to open his mouth, his hand twisted in his hair. 

“As always, when I teach you I expect you to do as I say.” Solas instructed. “I don’t want your hands to move from that spot even once. Understand?” 

Jack nodded, and for once, he let that slide, hard to keep his teeth from scratching, but after a few moments to adjust to the way just this bit felt, he groaned when he pulled him closer, given only a few moments each time to adjust, to relax his throat and figure out how and when to breath. There was an ache in his throat, and his tongue felt useless in his mouth until he was given another chance to adjust, taking the chance to breathe, managing to earn a groan after a few solid attempts. The hardest part had nothing to do with trying to handle the way he took every bit of space in his mouth and throat, but keeping his hands where he put them. 

Part of him wanted the chance to touch and explore more of him, the other part was struggling not to touch himself. Incredibly difficult to think when his mind felt so hazy. 

“Impressive. I didn’t think you’d listen so well.” Solas praised. 

Letting him pull back from him, gesturing for him to turn over. He did, lying there looking pleased with himself. 

“Hands and knees, if you would.” Solas said. 

Jack moved the way he directed. He heard him move, but couldn’t bring himself to look. He groaned when he felt something wet and warm against him. Unsure what he was expecting to happen, somehow, that wasn’t it, the slick feeling dripping down his skin felt strange to him. He felt it again, sucking sharply through his teeth when he spread his fingers. 

“I imagined you at least did this much on your own.” Solas admitted. 

Giving him time to adjust, he added in another finger, curved and firm, prying a loud moan from him when he spread them once more. 

He could have opted to be less kind, skipped this part entirely, but that seemed a bad way to get what he was really after. Solas found himself considering whether or not he could be taught in even this way. Perhaps it would be worth it. It was not surprising he found it easier to think with a clear mind, and as much as he’d like to ignore his baser instincts, they both benefited from it. 

Holding his hip, his fingernails dug into his skin, scraping roughly. His other hand clenched his neck, fingers pressed against his raw injuries, watching him tremble, legs threatening to collapse under him. He slowly leaned into him, feeling the give when he entered. 

Jack tried to stay quiet, impossible when there was nowhere available to hide. Maybe that was what felt the most intimidating, just how open and vulnerable he was. He was figuratively an open book. He’d have told him anything without hesitation. This was a different sort of open, it felt like he was seeing everything, and he couldn’t tell if he approved or not.

“If I ask for your hands?” Solas asked, voice lower, or maybe it wasn’t? “Would you give them to me?” 

Without hesitation, even though it dropped him uncomfortably onto his shoulders, he held his hands back. Adjusting his hold on him, he pulled them, getting him to do the bulk of the work for a few moments, hips rocking back against him, choking on broken panting. 

There was pain, but not in a bad way, pressure, but not uncomfortably so, and there was pleasure, unlike anything he could recall doing to himself. He must have done something right, his hand a relief, the sensation enough to fog his mind further. Jack groaned, thighs trembling and arms pure jelly when he let him go. Solas didn’t move away a moment before he felt ready to do so. Jack thought he might have a moment to rest, until he held his hand out to him. 

He stared up at him curiously, licking his own finish from his palm, face red, beaded in sweat. Solas helped him to sit up, handing him a potion. Jack didn’t think twice anymore, drinking when he got it open. His injuries vanished slowly, including the dark bruises he had bitten into his skin. That much felt a little sad, part of him would have liked to keep those. He would have proudly worn them, displayed or hidden. Solas pulled him into his arms briefly, hands gently brushing his hair. His words vibrated softly against his ear, having to really listen to hear what he was saying. 

“Go wash up.” He told him first. “Would you kindly not say anything about this?” 

Jack’s expression was lost, staring off into nothing, but when he focused on him, though he said nothing, there was a sliver of hurt. 

“It should be private, just between us. Besides, you can’t afford to have anything damage your reputation. I’ll be in after you’re done to wash. I suggest you sleep when you’re done. 

  
  



	16. Chapter 16

“Did you sleep alright, Freckles?” Varric asked. 

Jack bit his lip. In truth, he hadn’t. It was almost impossible to sleep when his mind wouldn’t stop replaying everything. 

“I slept fine, better than usual.” He lied, smiling. 

It felt terrible to lie, he wasn’t even sure why he did, other than he felt it strangely necessary. 

Varric looked back at him for a moment, Cassandra would be furious if she thought Jack had been influenced. “Not for nothing, but it might actually be a better idea to go after the mages…” 

Well. It was already out there, might as well give some reasoning. 

“Look, Templars...I’m not saying all of them are bad, Curly’s mostly alright, but at the end of the day they  _ are  _ trained to keep mages in line, and Herald of not, there might  _ still _ be some chance you could get hurt. Maybe I’m worrying for nothing. The choice  _ is  _ yours. It’s my opinion that you might not be able to defend yourself against even one. The reputation they have is...far from sterling.” Varric explained apprehensively. 

Jack bit his lip. So Cullen was a good Templar, but some of the others were bad? He vaguely recalled warnings to avoid them if possible, that fit this particular narrative, at least. 

“I am inclined to agree.” Solas added after a moment. “An alliance might look well and good to the people, but at what cost? Would they truly listen to a mage, regardless of importance? Would  _ any _ of us be safe?” 

Jack got the distinct feeling that the  _ us _ he was referring to were mages as a whole. Vivienne might feel perfectly comfortable around them, but the thought  _ did _ leave him feeling threatened. He had already heard plenty of stories just walking through Redcliffe. They were terrified. Some had already been hurt in the circles. He  _ saw _ what they did to Mother Hevara. He didn’t even feel comfortable around the clerics, but that was wrong. 

“I...you might be right.” Jack admitted nervously. “Is it...would it really be alright to not at least  _ try? _ ” 

“If it was left up to you, I’d say that’s up to you.” Bull said. Grunting thoughtfully, he added “The Qun doesn’t necessarily like unchecked mages, too much potential for things to go ass up. That said, I don’t care either way. Fireballs work just as well as swords most of the time, and it’s not my choice to make.” 

“I’ll…” Jack paused, unsure who he was supposed to notify. “Tell Leliana?” 

It was more of a guess than an announcement. All things considered it  _ was _ a Templar who stabbed him the first time he came here. That was a result of his carelessness, but the point still stood. 

Sighing, he rubbed his stomach. Almost midday and he’d forgotten to eat before they left Redcliffe. Interestingly, the aches he had felt in his legs were mostly gone now, but in the trade off, his bottom was  _ very _ sore instead. That would be a conversation to have later, in private. Solas was brilliant, surely he’d have some ideas. 

Varric laughed more to himself, calling his attention before tossing him a pear. Not a meal, sure, but it was something to keep him going for the last hour or two of the trip back. Jack looked like he might cry, gratefully bobbing his head. 

“Thank you, I can’t believe I forgot…” Jack sighed. 

Solas would have left it as a learning experience. He wouldn’t die of hunger on the short trip, but it would be uncomfortable enough that he might not be so inclined to forget again. Varric spoiled him far too much. How was he expected to learn with him doting on him in such a way? 

Jack didn’t think of much beyond his gratitude, trying to maintain his pace and eat at the same time. There were still apostates and Templars visible in the distance, but he wasn’t going to go out of his way to hunt either when there were scouts posted all over now. Getting back to Haven and reporting what they’d learned and what he was planning to do seemed like it should take priority. 

By the time they reached Haven once more, Jack was almost hoping he would have to set out again right off. He had spent precious little time here, and some free time spent in a way he chose was a luxury he wasn’t sure he’d ever gotten before. Jack didn’t stop, immediately making his way to the chantry. Inside, he bee lined straight for the war room, finding it a little eerie when everyone stopped and glanced up almost at the same time. 

Josephine’s assistant poured a cup of tea, setting it on the table in front of him. He smiled politely, waiting for it to cool a wee bit. It made him feel uncomfortable at the thought that this was almost like a family. Was he so desperate for the home he left behind that human proxies were good enough? 

“How did it go?” Cullen asked, a mix of hopeful and wary. “Did the Grand Enchanter accept?” 

Jack grimaced, licking his lips nervously. The tea was still a bit too hot, but he took a drink anyway, needing the distraction just to buy a few more seconds trying to decide how to deliver bad news. He wasn’t sure what kind it was, and really it didn’t matter, but the honey was a pleasant touch. 

“So...uh.” He mumbled. “I don’t know how to begin explaining this, but it seems a magister is in control in Redcliffe. I thought him amenable to the request to borrow the mages. But…” 

“But…?” Cullen pressed, his face more concerned by just that amount. “I take it something changed?” 

“His son gave me a note. Warned me that I was in danger. I also meant a former associate of his that offered assistance. Apparently, there’s a cult of Tevinter supremacists, the Venatori, I think he said? Either way, this cult is very interested in me and I don’t know why…” Jack finished. 

“We have yet to hear back from the Templars, at present.” Josephine informed him. 

“Perhaps it might be best to forego seeking their aid until this is resolved.” Leliana suggested. “This sounds like trouble, and seeking aid from the Templars might incite a response we don’t need. A cult that seeks Jack for unknown reasons won’t simply give up on him due to a simple thing like rejection.”

“If we get the Templars, a mage cult isn’t going to be an issue.” Cullen said. “I maintain that could be the better option.” 

“They are trying very hard to stay out of our reach and indeed we’ve had a difficult time tracking their location. If we could find and reach them in a timely manner, I would be inclined to agree, but they’re not helping when the Lord Seeker clearly is going to great lengths to hide.” Leliana disagreed. 

“Please, be considerate. The Herald has only just returned. Let’s not overwhelm him with squabbling. We’ve asked him to go to the meeting and make a choice. Why don’t we simply ask his thoughts? Besides, I’m certain he could use a chance to rest.” Josephine insisted. 

“What are your thoughts on the matter?” Cullen asked quietly. 

“I have to say I don’t feel very comfortable with the idea of a cult interested in me. I don’t know if they’re simply fanatical or intend to harm me, but if I can help it, I’d like to do something about that, unless you think Tevinter is less of a threat with a few hundred or thousand mages?” He said, tone uncertain even now. 

“No, that is a problem…” Cullen agreed reluctantly. 

Jack focused almost entirely on his tea. He liked them, but the range of expressions they wore made him uneasy. Better to concentrate on finishing his drink before he might be better served leaving the room.

“We will at the very least, attempt to make contact with the magister. In the meantime, there is indeed some down time until then. Take the time to rest as you see fit, we will be sure to tell you if there are any updates”. Josephine said warmly. 

Jack finished the last sip or two of his tea, nodding happily. “Yes, thank you. I’ll take my leave then.” 

  
  



	17. Chapter 17

Jack had caught a nap. The bed here wasn’t quite as nice as the one from the inn, but thinking such things really only put him back in the moment. Put him face down in the pillows, and had him blushing all over again. Eager for a distraction, he rolled out of bed and paced the small room, willing himself to try and fill the gaps in his memory. 

Almost as though he must have sensed he was starting to become anxious about just how hard it was to recall faces of people he could remember being close to, there was a knock on the door, and Varric’s familiar voice - and then face. 

“Got enough sleep?” He asked. 

“Yes, I...why?” He asked, curious. 

“Just want to see if you’ve rested enough so I know if you’re ready to come out.” He said vaguely. 

“You want me to go to the tavern with you. Cards, or just drinks?” Jack asked astutely. 

“Well, you’ve got it all figured out, Freckles. So what do you say?” Varric wondered. 

He had to wait for the letter to go out, and to hear back from Alexius, right? That would take a while, probably. He’d spend that time better with training, surely. That sounded so unappealing in comparison to a night of good stories, fun games and decent drinks. He wasn’t a seasoned drinker or player, but it was hard not to feel welcome. 

“Alright. I’m in.” Jack agreed. 

“Quickly now, before Chuckles sees you.” Varric urged. 

Obviously he wasn’t looking forward to that lecture either, but what was the harm in taking a day off to enjoy the village he had hardly even gotten to see? Jack peered around the door on both sides, standing on tiptoes to see further across the open yard. Nowhere in sight for the moment. He closed the door behind him, following Varric to the small tavern. The Iron Bull was already at a table, Varric moving to sit by him. Sera slid off a different table, making a face at him when she came to sit. 

Jack wasn’t quite sure why she didn’t like him. He tried to be nice, but for some reason it seemed like she just had no interest in getting to know each other. He nervously twisted his fingers in his ponytail, looking between each face. He was pondering making an excuse to change his mind so quickly after agreeing when Flissa set some drinks in front of them. Jack stared at the mug, sliding lower in his seat. Bull reached over, hand clenching the back of his tunic, lifting him back up. 

“You asked for my help. You’re getting my help. Sit up, you won’t look like you can hold your own if you’re a puddle on the floor.” Bull told him. 

He resisted the urge to pout. Had he just kept his mouth shut, he could probably have melted onto the floor and snuck away before they were having too much fun to notice he had left. Sighing, he braced his cheek on his palm, finger tracing the rim of his glass. Sera laughed and he just  _ knew _ it was directed at him. She could  _ smell _ his discomfort around her or maybe she just had a sense for it. He knew she didn’t care much for him and he didn’t want to present too enticing a target for her pranks. 

Varric sat back in his seat, shuffling the deck for a few minutes, until Sera complained that it was taking too long. He dealt the cards, rolling his eyes. Jack quietly fanned his cards out, hiding behind them. Not at all that he suddenly forgot how to play, Varric’s lessons managed to stick without much effort. Solas was probably frustrated that his lessons weren’t so easy to absorb. He was scarcely shaping up as a leader and he wasn’t notably any better in the magic department. At least as a person he must seem like a waste. Really it was the curious eyes that kept hitting him. Like he was obviously out of place here. 

Licking his lips, he glanced at the table before dropping one of his cards, chin resting on the edge of the table again. Jack reached for his drink, finally taking a long sip. He didn’t care much for the taste, but he had been assured it wasn’t the taste that people liked it for. That in mind, he drank some more, liking it less that time than before. Probably showed on his face. 

“So, Jack. Why don’t you tell us a story today?” Varric suggested. 

Varric took a moment to grab a drink, his hands moving fast. No, that made sense, he was fast in a battle, his hands flying swiftly and easily. Made it look effortless. Must be why he seemed to flow without having to think now. Bull played with the same sort of quick processing as Varric. Right. Ben-Hassrath. Spy. He had to be able to know a hundred things with a quick glance, that made sense. Almost felt like they were miles out of his league at this. Sera took a little longer than he did, but he knew the look. She was looking through all her options and trying to make sense of it in the same way he still had to. She finished her turn, patting the edge of the table. 

Jack looked over his cards, quick to play this time, more as a distraction. He was still thinking. Trying to come up with  _ any _ story. He was certain he used to have plenty, so why was it he was coming up empty now? Even just to himself in him mind, he couldn’t finish the sentences. 

My father…

My mother…

My clan …

There was just no words or pictures forming to fill in the blanks, trying to aim for humor, he tried his best to answer in a very Varric way. 

“I’ve got one.” He began. 

Everyone leaned in, curious to know what he might say. 

“So once, I actually fell out of the Fade, and Inquisition soldiers dragged me off for interrogation, and I couldn’t remember a thing.” He said. 

It took a few moments to realize that was it. He wasn’t going to follow it up. Made sense. How was he supposed to remember much when he had been insisting from the start he couldn’t remember. Why would that have changed because they asked for a story he couldn’t deliver. 

“Sorry, Freckles.” Varric sighed, “easy to forget sometimes. It’ll come back, I’m sure of that.” 

Right now, it was seeming like most of his memories had the same increasingly familiar faces in them. Supposing if they never came back, he’d just have to get used  _ these _ being his new memories. That felt cheap and unfortunate in some inexplicably profound way. Jack finished his drink, debating what kind of excuse might work before Sera was flagging Flissa down noisily for another round. On someone else, of course. He sat back in his seat with a sigh. Didn’t seem like he’d be getting out of here for quite a while. He was going to deserve whatever lecture he was in for. 


	18. Chapter 18

Jack was up early the next morning, awoken by a dream that they received a response. Only a dream, of course. Shuffling disappointedly from the chantry, he almost literally walked into Cullen, already awake and making rounds. 

“Ah. Herald. You’re up early.” Cullen observed. 

“Y-yes. I didn’t mean to be, but I suppose I can’t get back to sleep now.” Jack sighed. 

Never seemed to have much luck going back to sleep once he was awake, at least, awake any longer than meeting a basic need, like getting a drink in the middle of the night or the like. Maybe a three minute window. Cullen offered a sympathetic expression that he gathered meant he definitely understood. 

“Well. If you can’t sleep, come with me.” He offered. “We can grab a drink in here and then walk the village. Unless...you’d rather not, I understand you’re probably very busy.” 

Jack shook his head. He really had nothing to do unless that letter came in. Too early for Varric to be up and Solas was likely off somewhere dreaming of impossible things he could barely even imagine. Solas once spoke to him of Ostagar, of Wardens, and a great battle, but he had to ask Varric for clarification as to why that was important. Some big deal about the former King of Ferelden dying at the beginning of the Blight and some Loghain betraying King and Wardens alike. None of it rang any bells, but logic said his clan was closer to Kirkwall than Denerim during the time, made sense not to know. 

Jack followed Cullen, bobbing his head in thanks to the assistant that was handing out the drinks. Expecting tea, the most familiar thing to him, it surprised him when the taste was sweeter, little soft fluffy clouds dancing on the top. Jack stared curiously and Cullen laughed quietly. Jack didn’t know he  _ could _ laugh. It was a nice sound, one he thought he liked. Turning to follow him back out the door and down one path first. 

“I take it you’ve never tried it?” He asked. 

“No, but this is much nicer than the tea…” Jack admitted , trying to guide another of the soft white things into his mouth unsuccessfully. “Is this a common thing?” 

“Not particularly. Lady Montilyet acquired it from a recent shipment out of Antiva, I believe. It used to be more common here, but the Blight disrupted plenty, and now more and more things are becoming harder to acquire.” Cullen explained. “However, many of the alliances you’ve made so far have been very beneficial. You’ve done well.” 

Jack felt a sharpness in his chest that made his eyes sting with tears that he didn’t let drop. That was such a nice thing to hear, he wished it was something he heard more often, but he supposed he didn’t do nearly enough to deserve the praise.

More and more faces here were slowly becoming more familiar. Adan nodded to him as he passed, less irritable than usual so far. Probably thanks to him not taking up so much of his time. Cullen paused again by the gate, stopping to collect a stack of reports. From the look he wore reading over the first few, it was probably fairly boring, but that was good. Boring meant everything was relatively uneventful, no trouble. 

“Is this a normal morning for you, then?” Jack asked curiously. 

Glancing up for a moment, he nodded. “What about you? You’re gone more often than not. What is your morning like usually?” 

Jack sighed. “A lot of walking. I usually start my earlier mornings talking and training with Solas. Sometimes I talk with Varric. If I’m very unlucky, we run into bears. Or worse,  _ people.” _

Cullen resisted the urge to laugh, the way he said that perfectly encapsulated his feelings about running into people before a certain amount of time to wake up. No doubt he meant trouble, but that was relatable. 

They reached the Chantry doors again, and he sighed. Jack seemed to realize his morning rounds were over, and he nodded, taking a sip of his drink, less hot now thanks to the cold but still pleasantly warm. 

“Thank you. F—for letting me come with you, I mean…” he told him. 

“Of course. It was...oddly nice to have you along. If you need anything further, I’ll be in here for a while. If there’s any word from the Magister, I’ll make sure you know immediately.” Cullen told him. 

When he disappeared behind the doors, Jack finished his drink, utterly confused when someone else took it from him and walked off with it. Before he had time to consider what came next, he felt a hand snag the crook of his elbow, pulling him to follow. 

“Solas…” he murmured. 

“Jack.” He answered back. 

“Where are we going?” He asked. 

“Somewhere where you might find it easier to focus.” Solas explained vaguely. 

His room was too obvious. Too many people knew to find him there and not everyone so courteous as to not interrupt. Therefore they were going elsewhere. There was a house on the outskirts, undisturbed since the Conclave save for Jack himself, who came only to find notes. 

Now? It was the perfect place. Even the guards rarely, if ever, came this far out beyond the gates. Solas reached to open the door, guiding him in. 

Jack took a few moments to look around. Dark. Varied sizes of candles littered the room, some simple furniture. His eyes briefly fell on the bed and he felt his face heat up, looking away quickly. 

“No distractions. If you expect a reward, I expect  _ progress _ . We’re working on your barriers today. You seem to spend a startling amount of time bleeding, so if I can’t push you to attack first, perhaps I can at least teach you to protect yourself.” Solas told him.

Pacing around him slowly, his fingers trailed briefly over his throat, a light flirtation with contact that he suspected might draw his interest more efficiently than the promise that he’d be better for the work. Leaning in, he spoke faintly, so Jack really had to listen. His breath was warm, and filled him with the sensation of prey in the face of a predator. 

“The only one allowed to hurt you is  _ me _ .” He said almost possessively. 

Jack swallowed hard, biting his lip. How was he supposed to focus with that rattling around his mind? 

“Now. You should shield yourself, I’ll give you no more warning.” Solas told him. 

Jack barely had enough time to form a half-assed barrier before a blast of greenish energy crashed through, sending him onto his ass faster than he could blink. Solas clicked his tongue disapprovingly. How could it be that he had such power to him and he shackled himself like this? How could he not even block him at his  _ weakest? _

“Get up.  _ Again _ . We do this until you  _ don’t  _ fall over. However long that takes.” Solas instructed. 

  
  



	19. Chapter 19

By late afternoon, Solas had finally succeeded in a full, direct blast dissipating before Jack’s barrier broke,  _ without  _ sending him to the floor. Solas grabbed a washcloth that appeared to have been untouched, dipping a corner into a nearby basin. 

Holding his chin, he tipped his head up and back gently. He wiped blood away from his nose and mouth where previous attempts had connected, pleasantly surprised that he hadn’t complained even once. No serious, lasting injuries, a little bruising. Nothing unusual enough for a training session of adequate intensity. 

“How did I do?” Jack asked quietly. 

Solas gestured for him to take his tunic off, and Jack took it off without a second thought. It was finally setting as routine that he’d look him over like this. It was kind of nice, knowing that for any reason, he had his attention. 

His thumb brushed a sore spot below his shoulder, and Jack jolted, fingers digging into the wooden stand he leaned against. Solas glanced long enough to see the way it chipped and splintered under his fingers. 

“Ah. Is it tender here?” He asked. 

Jack didn’t answer right away, hissing out the breath he held when he pressed his fingers against it harder, letting up after a few seconds. His thighs trembled like his legs might give out. Solas slid an arm around his waist to ensure he didn’t slip. 

His teeth scraped his jaw, biting his earlobe hard enough that he was sure that too might bruise, face growing completely red. Jack hated what he must think of him, and somewhere in the haze of trying to think clearly,and the feel of his teeth digging in at the space where neck met shoulder, testing a different spot lower, more on his side. 

“I see. It must be very serious, you have yet to answer me.” Solas reminded him. 

Jack thought back to his words before. True to what he said, he had been the source of all the pain he felt, either directly or indirectly. He didn’t care what he did, fact was that he was taking the time to help him become stronger, better. Solas had decided to some extent that he was salvageable, he could be helped, if this was what he asked in return, Jack would give it gladly if it meant not having to feel alone in all of this. 

Solas made a face, tossing him his tunic. Sighing, he put distance between them, gesturing to the door. 

“It appears you may have company.” He said. 

Sure enough, there was a voice at the door. “Herald, I...are you in there?” 

“Yes, I’m here.” Jack answered shakily. 

Creators but it was hard to steady his voice. He still felt plenty hot, like the cold air wasn’t even reaching him. 

The door opened and a scout saluted, gesturing back in the direction of the chantry. 

“Sister Leliana asked for me to find you and let you know that the Magister has replied. Sooner than expected, but she asked that I pass it on before any discussions were had on the matter.” The scout told him. 

After the scout left, Solas watched the way Jack leaned back against the stand again, finger resting under his chin in thought. 

“What could you be thinking of so seriously?” Solas wondered. 

“Time magic…” he mumbled. “The letter scarcely left. It had time to get there, sure...but I was wondering how he answered so fast, and I remembered Lord Pavus mentioned something about him utilizing time magic somehow. Theoretical magic…” 

Frowning, he looked up finally. “Solas...I’m scared. A cult after me? Time magic? This is all way over my head, and I know I’m not that useful...how am I supposed to deal with this?” 

“You’re too tense, first of all, second, I will  _ not _ have you say you’re  _ useless _ .” Solas almost snapped. 

It wasn’t that he believed he really contributed much, but he’d put in the time and effort to improve him, and calling himself useless carried the hidden implication that  _ he  _ was failing, and that was truly unacceptable. 

“S-sorry. Not useless, I just...I’m not there yet…” Jack rephrased. 

“On that much, we can agree. I don’t doubt we’ll be setting off early tomorrow. Let’s stay out here tonight.” Solas suggested. 

“You...want me to stay with you?” Jack said, forcing down the small, hopeful smile threatening him. “Not...not somewhere else, I mean?” 

“Well, it’s proper to acknowledge improvements in some way. Easier when there’s less interruptions. Easier here.” He said. 

Solas gave it some thought. Alexius would no doubt do everything he could to discreetly separate Jack from anyone he might bring. Best to test out a new theory, just in case. Alexius didn’t know his phrase. He couldn’t control him, sure, but a little insurance that things went just right? Who could resist. 

That was the primary reason he insisted on staying with him. Another part was so no one would be tempted to check on him, and so a certain dwarf wouldn’t come drag him off once again into some foolishness that wouldn’t help in the least. Dorian has insisted he’d come along, and there was no doubt Jack wouldn’t  _ not _ ask him to come with. He’d likely take Varric anyway, which, he had to admit, was preferable to him bringing The Iron Bull. Trading in the only credible threat to his plans for a dwarf with a clever tongue was in his favor.

“Go. It is impolite to keep people waiting. I’ll be here.” Solas told him. 

Jack’s eyes went wide at that. He stood in a hurry, all but dashing out the door. A little attention, a scrap of affection, and a generous dose of pain and he all but had him wound tightly around his finger. Shame they couldn’t make a more efficient weapon. Then again, they never expected he would interfere. How could they anticipate that the biggest threat to them and their little  _ project _ was  _ him?  _

Across Haven, Jack made it to the war room, bursting through the door, offering a quick, quiet apology for how loud and sudden it was. Leliana looked up, smiling kindly. 

“Good, now we can begin discussing this.” She said. “In short, Magister Alexius has discussed an arranged meeting. You’re to meet him in Redcliffe tomorrow. However…” 

“It’s a trap, isn’t it?” Jack realized. “How bad off is it.” 

“We are reasonably certain he means to kill you.” Leliana said. “Now, this is ultimately up to yo—“ 

“I’m going.” Jack said firmly. 

“Very well. Now, we can’t directly send backup with you. We do advise you to disregard that he seems to intend for  _ only _ you, and bring backup. We’ve been busy trying to come up with a plan, and we believe the best option is to get you and him to talk, by time for my men to slip in. We spring his trap, and catch him off guard. It sounds much more risky than it will ultimately be.” Leliana explained. 

“You’re asking me to be the bait? I talk to him, he thinks he has the upper hand, and while he’s distracted, you move in on him?” Jack said tentatively. 

“Yes, that’s the best that we could come up with, regrettably.” Josephine agreed. 

Jack nervously licked his lips. No. He was supposed to be improving. Looking and sounding unsure wasn’t going to fool a magister if he couldn’t even convince his advisors that he knew what he was doing. Forcing himself to stand up straight, he nodded. 

“It’s perfect. I’ll talk with him. We’ll get him. We’ll get the mages. This is a great plan.” He said, hopefully as confidently as it was meant to be. 

Cullen looked uneasy, looking from him to Leliana as if to wordlessly ask if she was sure this was a good idea. He might have made a push to suggest the Templars were still an option but no one had bothered to reply, and several scouts had been turned away, there was simply no obvious way to approach them. 

“Very well. I will write up a letter and Leliana will have it sent out. Talk to who you want to accompany you and we will make sure you’re ready to set off early tomorrow.” Josephine told him. 

“I...okay. I’ll be sure everything is sorted.” Jack mumbled. 

Well, it wasn’t perfect, but it had to be better than before? He was trying consciously at least…


	20. Chapter 20

Jack awoke strapped to a table, wrists aching, and only the dead surrounding him, Dorian bent and rummaging through pockets. He retrieved a key ring, undoing the shackles keeping him in place. His expression went from relief to concern when he saw the state of him. Bruised, bleeding, shallow gash on his cheek. He held his hands, bending them enough to examine his wrists. The fresh ink marking his skin was concerning. Thankfully, there didn’t seem to be any red lyrium in it. Stupidity was rampant here. Had a prime opportunity and failed to seize it. 

“D-Dorian… wh-ah...what happened?” He rasped. 

Dorian caught him when he stumbled off the table, looking up apologetically when he collapsed into him. 

“Alexius expected to catch you off guard. Your forces destroyed his backup and bringing company as well as knowing it was a trap made him sloppy. He panicked and unleashed his spell before it was ready. Thankfully. Almost certainly, that spell would have wiped you from existence. As it is, we’ve been thrown somewhere into the future from what I managed to discover…” Dorian explained. 

Jack looked himself over. Odd why the only thing he could think of was that he’d have to apologize to Solas. Someone else had hurt him after all, he’d be disappointed. He couldn’t do anything to stop it. Looked like he wasn’t much better off after all. His eyes fell to his wrists, staring at the markings. Chains? Why chains? If they wanted him out of the way, why would they keep him alive and do such a thing? 

“I suggest we keep looking. The others may have ended up here, and if we’re very lucky, we’ll find a way back. This may not have to be our reality.” Dorian added. 

“Is...this permanent?” Jack asked, distressed. “I wanted my vallaslin. I wanted to prove I was an adult, that I could handle it...I didn’t want these...I’m...this feels like…” 

“Perhaps they intended to wrap you up, so to speak. Let Alexius hand you over to his Elder One, gift wrapped and everything.” Dorian suggested. “Not that that wouldn’t be a pretty picture, but I think silk ribbons would suit you more than gaudy chains.” 

Jack’s eyes welled with tears. It wasn’t the pain, he could handle that, but what it represented. If...if they went back to the past, they  _ should _ disappear. He didn’t have them back then! Perfect. This was an exceptional idea. 

“I don’t know the castle at the best of times. Any idea where to look for the others?” Jack asked. 

“At a guess? If they’re here and alive, they’re likely in the cells., we’ll want to go downstairs., I met up with the Grand Enchanter, that’s how I learned what I did. She says your spymaster is also here. If she’s not in the cells, I’d imagine she’d be up. She’s a valuable source of information, no doubt.” Dorian theorized. 

It didn’t take too long to find the cells, or to find Varric and Solas. The trouble was...them. They looked sick...infected, skin and eyes red from the lyrium. Dorian explained the situation to Solas and Varric. Neither seemed very concerned with the idea of being in the future or being able to go back, instead offering advice on where to find Alexius, locked himself away from everyone and refused to come out more often…

“Are you alright, Freckles?” Varric asked. “You look like hell.” 

Jack sniffled, wiping his eyes. “Varric...I’m...you’re...I’m not…” 

Varric patted his shoulder. “I’m dying, yeah. But you know me, I’ve gotta worry, I know you won’t…” 

Solas caught a glance at the black ink etched into his skin. Grabbing his wrist when Varric went ahead. Jack flinched, trying to pull his hand free. Solas looked at him oddly. 

“Is it my condition that concerns you, or this?” Solas asked. 

“I’m...I don’t know. It might be both.” Jack admitted. 

Chains...he didn’t care much for the symbolism behind them, in fact, he hated it. That aside, they suited him. Tattoos that could be no less apt. Bound to the purpose of his creation, bound to his whims. Bound by his duty. Everything sought to contain and bind him, and he could no more fight that destiny than a caged bird could know freedom. He wasn’t one for consoling others. Didn’t want to give the wrong impression, but his head was far from in the game, and if it came down to relying on him to ensure he lived through this or doing something to  _ make _ him focus? He could manage. 

Solas firmly held his wrists, bringing them to his lips, gently brushing over the fresh ink. Jack whimpered, not from pain, but discomfort. Interesting. Simple, gentle affection seemed to make him uncomfortable. He planted a kiss on his ear, and excuse to get close enough to whisper to him. 

“Jack...we’re forced to rely on your help this time...would you kindly  **_relax?_ ** _ ” _ He whispered. 

Solas held his waist, watching him slump briefly, eyes unfocused and unaware. He helped him to his feet and pointed to the others. 

“You have to be strong. Go. Follow Dorian, if he’s certain he has a way out, stay by him. Varric and I won’t survive this, but if  _ you _ do, we’ll see each other again. Don’t let them see you break.” Solas instructed. 

Jack frowned, forcing himself to stand up taller, catching up to Dorian and Varric. The past wasn’t perfect, but this was bullshit by comparison. His friends infected and dying, the Elder One, red lyrium,, the Breach, demons and rifts? All of it could fuck right off. Stronger language than he felt like using normally, but it was fitting here. 

Jack fought through demons, closed rifts, halting abruptly when he saw people. His hand hovered by his staff, Dorian, Varric and Solas already joining in the fight. This wouldn’t be real if they could fix this… 

He grabbed his staff, slamming it into the rubble for stabilization. He couldn’t focus,,releasing control too soon, plumes of fire and smoke ricocheting all over, singing demons and humans alike on contact very nearly. He needed to focus. Precise attacks were less draining than chaotic and reckless strikes. 

Dorian picked up a piece of something, looking it over. Glancing to the door to where Alexius was, there appeared to be several slots for just such pieces. Dorian gestures to unopened doors. 

“I’m guessing the rest will be on others. Let’s see if we can’t find the rest and drop in to say hello to the Magister.” Dorian said with a forced smile. 

Jack fell behind in the hall, holding his chest. This was new. He’d never felt this sort of anger build and burn in his chest like this. Rage? Fury…? No...not that… he wanted to deliver this pain and suffering tenfold.  _ Vengeance. _

Solas looked back, watching him curiously. His eyes had become almost golden, the roiling essence of his magic swelling, boiling over inside of him. For as much as he detested the memory of that look? There was no denying that on Jack, he was more than thrilled to see it.  _ This _ was true progress. So close to unlocking the deepest depths of his generous magical reservoir, but it wouldn’t last. Not until something could truly cut those last strings holding him back. 

“Are you alright, Jack?” Solas asked. 

It nudged him into clarity just enough to regain focus, gleaming golden light spilling through his veins. It was...beautiful, the way he could see the spidering network of veins beneath the skin, art breathed into life, but also terrifying, a glimpse too closely at things he’d rather let go unseen. 

“I’m fine. Never better.” Jack mumbled, pushing off the wall. “Let’s not keep Alexius waiting.”   



	21. Chapter 21

It wasn’t until they’d had to backtrack to hunt for Leliana and Jack had a chance to witness what had befallen others in Haven. Cullen was encrusted in red lyrium, sobbing and whispering prayers to a Make who no longer heard him, Josephine collapsed in the corner of a cell, clothes and skin dirty from the floor, finger bloody where she’d scrawled messages that would never reach anyone into the floor. Leliana had been hung from the ceiling, in the middle of being tortured when they found her. 

A ball of fire struck him and dissipated on contact, a sword carving into his arm, and even that didn’t seem to phase him. Dorian was quick to free her from her shackles, and Jack managed to help catch her before she landed. He frowned. It was like the memory had imprinted in his mind. He wondered if he’d remember this.  _ Hoped  _ he wouldn’t, but  _ knew  _ he would. Seeing the fates of people he liked even in a  _ possible  _ future was too much. 

Solas could see the anguish he felt etched into his form, shoulders slumped, sharp eyes pained as though completely in disbelief that people could do this to each other. Jack wasn’t strictly speaking, piloting anymore so much as the latent legacy of his lineage, urges, emotions so old and primal he couldn’t help but be pulled under. It was an exchange of sorts. Caution and inhibitions largely gone in exchange for single-minded focus and strength. He was still bound and helpless to those three special words, and that meant the course of events was ultimately up to him. He could get him to cease his actions if he became too dangerous, or stand back and watch, feigning shock at just what poor little Jackie could become. Mortals couldn’t possibly fathom such things. 

They returned to the main hall, choosing one of the side doors. Dorian pointed down the hall to an open room, some sort of mage separate from the group. 

“We should try to take him first. Maybe we can manage without a fuss.” He suggested quietly.

Solas wanted to see what he could do, truthfully. This was what he wanted, after all. 

“They’ve hurt the people you care about…” he told him quietly. 

“Did they hurt you too…?” Jack asked softly. 

“This whole place and everyone in it was designed to inflict the most pain. It is a safe assumption everyone you see had a hand in that.” Solas told him. 

There were glimmers of Jack behind the eyes, some sort of awareness. Pesky. Whoever was responsible for that all but ruined him with such staunch morality. Jack thought it over, staff pointed to the door. 

“I would suggest covering your eyes. I’d hate to blind you.” Not-quite-Jack said. 

“This is hardly the time for streaking.” Varric joked. Lest humorous than usual, understandably. 

Everyone looked away, covering their eyes as a blinding light filled the room and panicked shouts erupted. Taking advantage, Dorian, Solas and Varric moved in, Jack stabbing the hand of the mage reaching to try to recover the shard he dropped. 

“I need this.” He said quietly. 

Pulling his staff back, he held it out to Dorian who pocketed it with the other. 

Doubling back to the hall, they chose another door. Even now at his least inhibited, Jack hung back a bit from the front. It was best unsaid, but if he didn’t learn to stop holding back, someday it would cost him too much. It was as much for his own personal benefit as it was to try and teach him to embody the less terrible traits of the Creators. Granted there weren’t  _ many _ , but perhaps a few. Or maybe it was more that he just wanted Jack to be more like him. Well. If he wouldn’t stand at the front, he could stand by him and listen. 

“Does it hurt?” Solas asked. 

Jack idly massaged the skin around the tattoos, unwilling to touch them directly as if it might do something worse than simply hurt. 

“It’s fine.” He muttered dismissively. 

“I don’t like it when you lie.” Solas reminded him. 

“And what will you do about that?” He challenged. “You’ve said it yourself, you’re dying. What can you do to stop me?” 

Okay, so maybe he  _ didn’t  _ like this side of him so much. Defiant little brat. The rest had gone ahead, talking amongst themselves how they might handle this fight easier. Solas grabbed him by the collar, dragging him into a side room. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Jack asked. 

“Teaching you. You lack respect, and that’s a problem I intend to correct right now.” Solas told him. 

“How do you intend to teach me anything in your condition?” Jack asked defiantly. 

Solas glanced around the room. No harm if they were quick. He pushed Jack onto a bed in the corner. Before he could collect himself, he yanked his bottoms down, sitting over him so his legs were trapped, hands pinned under one of his. Solas brought his hand down hard against his ass and Jack gasped into the pillow. He gave him no chance to say anything about it, striking the other side. His hips swayed, muffled cries against the pillow. Had they more time he would have done more, as it stood, this could be done quickly and might make him reconsider talking back. 

He left his ass red, imprints of his hands left on his skin. Solas got off him, pulling his trousers back up, pointing to the door. 

“Now if you’re done talking back to me, would you kindly get back out there and help out?” Solas asked. 

Jack pouted, rubbing his backside with a grumble. He didn’t say a word, heading out to join the others, Dorian examining another shard before putting it away.

“Almost enough, I think.” He told him. 

“Good. Alexius is going to pay for this.” Jack muttered. 

At this point, he wasn’t quite sure if he was honestly upset with Alexius or just trying to pass off his petulance at being punished. He was just glad his clothes mostly hid the evidence of what exactly he felt about it. Looking back, Solas smiled pleasantly, and he immediately looked away. 

When they had enough, they returned to the door, Dorian arranging the shards in the slots, waiting impatiently as it opened. 

“Could this  _ be  _ any slower?” He complained. 

“Best not to ask.” Varric said. “Things have a way of going ass up when you ask too many questions.” 

Jack made a face at the phrasing, struggling not to look back again. He could just about imagine the smug look on his face. As soon as the door was open enough, he ducked and went in, striding in until he saw Alexius and Felix. Frowning, he took a few steps back. That couldn’t be the same man from before, he looked more like a ghoul. His stomach burned, and his fingers twitched reflexively. Better to let the others handle the talking. He could think of nothing but wondering how hard he’d have to squeeze to choke the life out of him. It made him uncomfortable. That wasn’t him, he wasn’t like that. 

He looked up in time to see Leliana cut Felix’s throat, and Alexius snapped, charging at them. By the time Jack composed himself enough to think about helping, he’d managed to tear a rift in the middle of the room, demons pouring out of it. This... _ this  _ was something he didn’t mind handling. 

“You focus on Alexius, I’ll handle this.” Jack instructed. 

He felt eyes on him, and it made him uncomfortable. He didn’t understand what was so surprising, but Solas clarified in between some rather fluid motions. He liked watching him. There was a grace to the way he approached battle that was almost an art form. 

“I think that’s the first time you’ve actually given an order. That’s progress.” Solas said. 

Jack thought that was a shame. Surely he’d have been proud of him but if they got back, he might not even remember it. It filled him with pride when he caught Solas watching him for once. 

It was almost a dance. Brutal and efficient, the sort of thing he struggled to do to a person, he could easily do to demons, intense, dancing wisps of fire and the twirling slash of his staff blade almost entrancing, undeterred even by the flecks of black blood dotting his skin. He held his hand up, closing the rift, in time to watch Alexius slump to the ground, Dorian grabbing what he needed. 

“Stay here. Don’t move, no matter what happens.” Dorian instructed. 

Easier said than done when Varric, Solas and Leliana walked to their deaths, demons bursting through the door and the broken bodies discarded to the sides. It hurt. Left him feeling empty, all that agonizing fire melting away until it was just him again, holding his arms as if that would chase away the awful feeling. Jack squeezed his eyes shut. When he chanced opening them again, they were back in the castle, the others just fine, Alexius giving in, defeated. 

His eyes fell to his wrists, startled and distraught when the marks were still there. Everything else had gone back to normal, why were they still there? He barely registered a man’s voice, glancing up in time to see the King and Fiona...right, he still needed the mages...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I needed an excuse to give Jack his Bioshock counterpart’s chain tattoos. Ngl I kinda wanted Solas to do it, but I had too many reservations with that 
> 
> Also, the glory thing is more a nod to how he looks when opting to save the Little Sisters, as well as a nod to his parentage.


	22. Chapter 22

By all accounts, Jack was back. He’d left his report in the war room and shuffled out in a despondent mess, going to his room. At least, until one too many people came to check on him. Josephine was the first to drop by, attempting to lure him out with some snacks and tea, finally leaving after a defeated fifteen minutes or so of trying to get more than one word answers from him. 

Leliana dropped by not long after, trying to coax him into talking about the things he’d seen, figuring that had to be what was troubling him. Alexius had been brought in chains, but otherwise looked completely unharmed. Remarkably rest restrained considering his and Dorian’s were the only two to demonstrate anything besides them talking, Alexius conceding defeat after his men were killed and Jack managing to secure the aid of the mages — as allies. 

Jack completely stopped responding by then, and she might have assumed he was in some trouble had she not heard the sound of him compulsively moving things around. Cullen was after, his knock hesitant, seemingly unsure what to say. He had never managed to figure out what to tell  _ himself  _ during hard times. Talking someone else through it felt almost impossible. 

“Jack... _ Herald _ .” He corrected, hoping the informality didn’t hurt worse. “Will you be alright? Do you need anything?” 

“No...I’m fine.” He sniffled. 

Didn’t sound fine, but rather than force him to try and snap out if it, he stuck to his own vague telling that he’d lived through some awful things too, and he might know some of what he was going through. He told him he could seek him out when and if he needed an ear to listen. He wanted to stay longer, but he couldn’t slow down preparations now. The trebuchets were being set, and more supplies were in needed to be seen to the proper places. Still more training to do as well. 

“I must leave, but I’m often up late, should you need me.” He said apologetically. 

Jack knelt on the bed, peering out the window. When there was a break in the people milling about, he jumped out the low window and made a break for the house on the edge of the village. He climbed into the bed, knees to his chest, face buried against them, trying not to cry. Now that all that anger he felt in the future, that need for retribution, it left him empty, in pain on the inside rather than on the outside and that? He wasn’t sure how to handle that. 

Solas quietly walked to his room, about to knock when it had been almost an hour since anyone had heard or seen him. If nothing else, there might be some damage control he could exercise. His three special words covered everything, but he had to be clever about it. If he wasn’t careful, he might miss a step, forget to specify a condition where he might accidentally let the wrong thing slip. As much as he hated having to get close to that  _ thing _ , it truly was beneficial. For that reason, primarily, he had to go check on him. If he broke now, he was as good as useless to him. But...if he could get him steady again...he may still have value. 

“Freckles isn’t there.” Varric told him matter-of-factly.

“Where is  **_Jack_ ** ?” Solas asked, emphasizing his name. 

He certainly wasn’t about to use a nickname for him. Bad enough he had to treat him so carefully as it was. 

“Not here. Left a while ago.” He said. 

“You let him  _ leave? _ ” Solas asked, barely controlling his anger. 

“Not completely, Chuckles. I’m not stupid. He’s had a rough time, kid’s one big open wound right now. Been refusing company for a while now. I’m not going to bother him. When he wants to talk, I’ll be here to listen.” Varric told him. He sighed. “I’m not going to be able to discourage you from going, but...be gentle with him. I’ve seen the way you train him, some things call for a softer approach.” 

Solas folded his arms over his chest, looking away for a few moments until he could control the annoyance on his face. 

“What makes you think I’m  _ anything  _ but gentle with him outside of training?” Solas asked. 

Varric frowned. Not really his place to say it probably, but damn it, he cared what happened to him. 

“I don’t know how you could miss it.” Varric said plainly. “Freckles adores the shit out of you, and I don’t really get it, but I don’t want to have to be the one to pick up his broken heart if you hurt him.  _ I’ve  _ got no problems with you, but he’s a good kid.” 

Rather than respond with words, Solas gave a slight bow of his head as if to both thank him and excuse himself. Not in his room, there’d be only one place he’d likely think to go. Walking down the path to the small empty house, he didn’t even bother knocking when he arrived. Opening the door and closing it behind him, he stood at the foot of the bed. Unable to hide a faint smile at the absolute fear on his face before he registered who it was. Jack quickly rubbed at his eyes, voice trembling slightly. Now  _ that  _ was a sound he  _ liked _ . 

“Solas… I—“ he began, stretching his legs out in an effort to look like he wasn’t in here crying like a child. “I wasn’t expecting you.” 

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he reached for his hands, looking over the tattoos. Eerie how spot on it was. In a sense, sure, he was born to do great things, but he was also always intended to be obedient to a fault. He had no choice. Less a slave than a leashed mabari. A tool meant to be contained and controlled until he was needed. 

“I know. I came because I was concerned.” Solas lied. 

He reached out to him, lightly brushing his fingers through his hair, holding his face delicately, turning him slowly side to side to appraise his condition. Not broken too severely that he couldn’t easily be repaired. This was something he thought to try  _ without _ using his trigger. Disgusted though he was, he could make it convincing if it would help. 

“You...really worried?” Jack asked. 

“Of course. Soon, you’ll be setting off to close the Breach. I suspect I won’t have many chances to spend any time with you with all those who will desire to see you.” Solas explained. 

Oh, it was almost guaranteed it wouldn’t go smoothly, after all, what plans ever did? But it was a nice dream at least. After all, that would have meant his plans were almost ready to set in motion. Too good to be true. That and he’d still be saddled with this monster. Regrettably, the most efficient thing was to make use of him as intended. He  _ would  _ assuming he didn’t outlive his usefulness well before. 

Jack looked up at him, and Varric was absolutely right, the brat really did have it bad for him, foolish. He’d just end up regretting it when he eventually was able to cast him aside and enjoy the fruits of all his planning. 

Solas held his arms out half heartedly and Jack immediately charged into his chest, gladly taking the offer. A small part of him thought it was kind of nice being held like this, and wondered why he simply couldn’t remember anyone else doing this. Surely his mom or dad had at some point, right? Something was off. The bigger part of him wondered if he thought poorly of him. Why was he suddenly being so...this had to mean maybe he didn’t like him after all, right? 

Jack hurt worse at the thought. His nails dug into his shoulders, breath shuddering it again like he was fighting not to burst into tears again. 

“What’s the matter?” Solas asked. 

Less concern and more annoyance, but it at least sounded sincere. If nothing else, he was becoming a much better actor. 

“You were hurt. Dying. I watched you die. I did everything you instructed, and you’ll never remember what I did, I’ll keep seeing that when I close my eyes, and...now I think something is wrong…” Jack admitted uneasily. 

Solas thoughtfully ran his fingers through his hair, turning his head slightly, enough to get a decent look at him. He had a few guesses why. Not like it was ever exposed to positive feelings, experiences. He was intended to be powerful, controllable, the perfect weapon but also the perfect  _ replacement.  _ Right now, he wasn’t shaping up on most of those fronts, but equating pain and love? A novel, if somewhat accurate depiction of it. Excellent for him, at least. For Jack? Well, he couldn’t imagine loving him, but it paid to make him believe he could. 

Jack looked at the wall for something to focus his nervousness at. While he tried to put it in words, he laid his head in his chest. The sound of his heart and the soothing feeling of him playing with his hair made him feel relaxed.

“I’m not a child. I’m not fragile...have I...done something to make you feel otherwise, this is unlike you…” Jack tried to explain. 

“That can wait. For now I think it best if you relax. Take a nap…” he urged. 

“I suppose I  _ am  _ a bit tired…” Jack relented. 

In truth just existing today was wearing him out, in a way he didn’t know how to cope with, but Solas, he was smart, he had to know what would help, what was best for him…

“Stay with me?” Jack asked. 

Solas kept a neutral expression though he had no idea how he managed. Staying would have been fine, together? That was a bit much, and it made him feel ill. Pushing it aside, he quietly laid down, feeling Jack stretch out against him, feeling his fingers trail slow patterns between his shoulders and down his back slowly. He didn’t look at it and Jack wondered where he actually was. He kept his silence, working to doze off, realizing it was probably something important that demanded attention. 

A brief nap would do some good. Recharge a bit before he gave him what he wanted. He’d certainly be very well rested by the time everything was ready to move on the Breach. 


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jeez, I tried to wrap it up earlier but it wouldn’t stop sensibly.

Solas frowned when he opened his eyes. Jack’s tunic half up, arms around him, face buried in his neck. Definitely _too_ comfortable. His breath was soft, and his whole body slack and relaxed. _Not for much longer._ He moved to sit up and Jack made a noise of protest, but began to stir. Rubbing his eyes with a quiet yawn, he met Solas’ stony expression. 

“I...was I supposed to be up sooner? I’m sorry!” He said apologetically. 

“It’s fine, but if you stay on me like this, the consequences will be on _you._ ” Solas told him. 

Jack glanced down curiously, legs resting on either side of his hips. His face immediately turned red. When he thought about the general threat, he wasn’t quite sure what sort of consequences there might be, but he found himself suddenly weighing whether it was wiser to move or if he would actually prefer to stay put and see what would happen. No. He actually didn’t want either. Despite his recollection of Redcliffe, one thing still appealed to him, and that was the idea to completely _defy_ him. 

Jack held his shoulders so he wouldn’t lose his balance, quickly closing the space between them, lips all too gentle on Solas’. It _did_ catch him off guard and the dwarf’s words echoed in his mind again. Solas caved briefly, biting at his lips and tongue, overwhelming and stealing away his concentration. It seemed he had picked a third option. What was he supposed to do? He hadn’t planned for defiance. The obvious answer was to give him a lesson in following directions. No doubt he was subconsciously aware of what he had been doing, but as much as he’d like to abuse that a little bit, really teach him how to obey, he had to see him as a figure he could trust implicitly. Just his good fortune the little monster really liked the way he treated him. Were he anyone else, there was no doubt he’d have had to step more carefully. Who was responsible for _this_ part of him? Andruil? Was it those memories? Doubtful it was solely his doing. 

Jack felt his tongue leave his mouth, teeth nipping sharply at his lips again, a stripe of red barely visible on his tongue when he pulled away. Jack licked his own lip, a tinge of iron filling his mouth, blood. He didn’t find the taste especially pleasant, but he didn’t mind the feel, lips stinging mildly, if a bit pleasantly. Solas bit his neck, below his jaw, up to his ears, across to the other side, harder than usual, enough to leave marks all over, red and bright, a few dotting a path down his throat where he’d cut the skin. Jack’s head fell back, squeezing his shoulders, emitting soft, whimpering moans, interrupted by the occasional gasp. He squirmed on his lap and it would be forgivable to assume it was discomfort, were it not for the evidence otherwise, digging into his thigh. 

Solas had already decided to push it just a bit further. It would at least be good to know if he’d found the limit or if Jack was somehow capable of matching his intensity. After all, the list of experiences he had to draw from was very long, and Jack? Well, it was just him. He should have already known he would only eat him alive. Not like he didn’t think to come prepared also. The dwarf especially liked to put his nose into business that wasn’t his. If he had left the marks, most might not say too much, but _Varric_ would. That one was problematic. 

Solas impatiently pulled off his tunic, quickly running out of untouched skin, little deep crescents dug into the back of his shoulders. Jack arched against him, almost a slow grinding when he repeated it in time with sharp nips at his skin. If he were anyone else, at least, from before all this, he might have gladly let them ride him, but not now. Not someone as undeserving of the privilege as this thing. If he was so insistent on this, he’d get him, but only on his terms. Solas shed his clothes skillfully, relieved when the cool air brushed his bare skin. 

He yanked Jack’s trousers off, hearing his quiet moan when his length sprang up and slapped his stomach. Solas clicked his tongue, leaning over him, mouth right next to his ear. 

“So eager after so little?” He questioned. 

His hands ran down Jack’s body, slowing when he reached his thighs, intentionally slow and gentle, earning a sigh at the way he massaged them. At the height of his haze, his blunt nails dug in, scraping from upper thigh to knee. His hips jerked, arching up slowly with a loud groan. Eyes squeezing shut when he grabbed his thighs, and a warmth engulfed him. Jack swallowed hard, fingers digging into the sheets. 

Maybe he really was too immature. Either that or he was just not very good at this. Solas already had his mind swimming, and it hadn’t been long. He’d hardly gotten much of a reaction from Solas. Not surprising that he’d be so composed. He’d never met anyone that had been so worldly, and interesting, and smart. He really was amazing… 

The feeling stopped, Solas sitting back on his heels, fingertips slowly trailed the deeper bites and scratches that had struck blood. Pain alone didn’t earn devotion so much as fear, while he doubted Jack would ever think to fear him, he might hesitate if he _only_ hurt him. It had to be just the right balance so he listened implicitly without having to use the phrase. Felt far too much like asking for it. Waving Jack closer, he felt a sense of satisfaction when he knelt in front of him, hands automatically resting on his thighs. He looked like he was simply waiting for his word. 

“Ahh. So you _do_ pay attention. Excellent.” Solas praised. “Go on.” 

Jack bent down, barely managing to get his mouth down around him before his fingers ran through his hair, pulling him down further by it. He whined softly and Solas felt the way the sound vibrated. As before, he gave him a little bit to adjust, to get a handle on figuring the pattern to suck and when he could move his tongue before he moved him faster, deeper, groaning he didn’t intend to let him hear slipping out. Jack didn’t struggle, letting him guide him as he saw fit. Gagging lightly, he gasped, taking a few deep breaths when Solas finally pulled him up and off. Solas leaned back against the pillows, watching him. Why not find out how well things were progressing? 

“Let me watch you.” Solas told him. 

Jack’s face went bright red, licking his lips slowly as though trying to process that. That word, _watch_ , really stood out to him. He was directing his focus entirely on him? That hit him equally hard in his heart and between his thighs. Before he lent it much more thought, his hand came down, gripping his shaft firmly, hips rocking up into his hand, his focus on Solas, trying to get a read on what he might be thinking or feeling, but it was impossible. He was an impossible read. 

Solas saw the way he latched on to that word, he _wanted_ his attention, this was a far cry from trying to ask him to accept his orders unconditionally and he was not foolish enough to believe he could do such a thing without much more work, _this,_ however, was something he could get him to do. Were he perhaps one of the men or women from before? He’d be quite flattered to watch such an act. Jack wasn’t on the same level, in any way. 

“S-Solas… I…” Jack interrupted his thinking. 

“What is it?” He asked, skillfully sapping the edge from his tone. 

“I— you wanted me to ask, right?” Jack shuddered, swallowing hard. “M...may I…?” 

“I’ll overlook your lack of specificity this time, but I may need to reinforce your manners again.” Solas sighed. 

“Please!” Jack added when he realized he forgot. “ _Please,_ may I?” 

Solas smirked behind his hand. This was _almost_ too good. 

“Go ahead.” He said finally. 

Jack slumped over himself, breath shaking and lip quivering. His hips slowed to a stop, thick spatters hitting his thighs and stomach, staring at his hand briefly, face still flushed like he was ashamed. 

“I do hope you’ve saved some energy. You wouldn’t want to seem ungrateful, would you?” Solas asked. 

“No...what should I do?” Jack murmured curiously. 

“Get on your knees. Face down. Use the pillow. We’re outside the village, but not so far that it’s impossible to hear. You wouldn’t want company _now_ would you?” Solas questioned. 

“N-no...that would be…” Jack began. 

The more he tried to picture the possibilities, the more nervous he felt about the potential to be caught like this. Strictly speaking, it didn’t seem like it was wrong, but he didn’t want anyone but Solas to see him like this… 

Jack put his face in the pillow, experimentally trying to figure out how to get to his knees _now_ , after he had already laid down. Solas laughed somewhere behind him. He finally slid onto his knees, gasping more in surprise than anything when he was right there, hands wandering the backs of his thighs, firmly grabbing and spreading his backside in silence. Not yet bothering with attempting entry, he bent down along his back, hand cupping his jaw, biting the nape of his neck and shoulders, pricking his skin in places dotted in red here too. Jack howled into the pillow and Solas trailed his tongue against his ear, eager to try something interesting. This wasn’t meant to involve that trigger, but maybe just once. 

“Would you kindly stay silent, Jack?” Solas murmured huskily against his ear. 

Jack gave a slow nod, taking advantage of the pillow. His hips pressed against the rough sheets with the sudden pressure of entry, fingertips feather light and teasing the dimples on his back, following the faint freckles down before digging into his hips, snapping against him roughly. 

Jack lifted his head, breathing deeply through his nose, teeth dug into his lip like he _wanted_ to make noise, but obediently stayed silent, nothing but a faint vibrating rumble at the base of his throat. That was exquisite. The power to even own his silence regardless. Whether he chose to handle him roughly or delivered pleasures he couldn’t fathom, he would be silent if only he asked...this kind of power was utterly addictive. 

Solas gripped his ponytail, pulling him up slowly, Jack eager to cooperate to make it pull less. Bent at this angle, he first attacked his lips again, biting and sucking fervently, leaving them swollen and bruised, the let him go, leaned back against him. Jack came up to his shoulders. Short among the Dalish, short among _any_ elf, actually. 

This close, Solas could return to leaving marks across his neck and shoulders, starting to congratulate himself on the foresight to have brought two potions today. He was going to need them to get rid of all of this. Much as he’d have preferred to leave them, Varric’s need to stay in Jack’s business if nothing else, made that an impossibility. Doubtful anyone else cared much to look out for him beyond the capacity of their station. 

Solas’ hands went up to his chest, pinching his nipples, pulling and twisting roughly. Jack’s eyes watered, nose wrinkled and teeth on full display, but still he made no noise. Bucking up against him, Solas bit his shoulder roughly, not keen to make too much noise at the best of times, but especially not for this thing. 

He lifted him off, letting him curl up on the bed, sweaty, shuddering and exhausted. 

“I’ll get the water warmed. Best to clean up first. We still need to discuss the trip to the Breach.” Solas told him. 

He thought about instructing him to drink first, but this was more satisfying. Washing with fresh marks would sting, and the faces he made while attempting to stay in his good graces would be entertaining. He could drink the potions after. 

  
  
  
  



	24. Chapter 24

Solas woke Jack, nodding to the door when he sleepily rubbed his eyes. 

“You should get ready.” He told him. 

Raking his fingers slowly through his hair to make it presentable, he frowned slightly. 

“Is it time for training already?” Jack asked. His stomach rumbled, and he sighed. “Is there time to eat first?” 

“Regrettably, we’ll have to skip your training today. As for food, I believe the dwarf had something he likely intended for you.” Solas told him. Before Jack could ask, he added “the mages are ready. More than can be said about you, but you’ve proven at the very least to be willing. That will have to be enough until your ability catches up.” 

Jack pulled his trousers up and tied the laces, frowning at the thought. “So quickly? I don’t think… Solas, I’m not ready, am I?” 

Ah, that regrettable need for reassurance. The one thing that kept him from going entirely mad was that he was beginning to ask questions, ask for stories, to learn about the Fade and about elves before ‘his’ time. He  _ was _ becoming more conscious. He had moved from completely uninteresting and repulsive to still repulsive but less uninteresting. It was a bare improvement, but even that helped make his near constant presence less taxing. 

“You’re not. Nowhere near, but...you must be. Are you afraid?” Solas asked. 

Jack licked his lips anxiously, nodding. “How could I not be? I’ve heard so much talk about how no one knows if or how I might be affected, that the mages could pose a risk. I’m terrified.” 

_ That _ was a wise answer. Far from proud, he was blissfully lacking in his own shortcomings, but it took thought. He wasn’t wrong. A form with as much potential as he held? Who wouldn’t be drawn to such a tempting target. He held no love for him, and the lure of reaching his goals even if that meant stepping on him was worth it. He wondered what might happen if he asked the impossible of him. Not that it was said with any sort of emotion or attachment, but a desire to keep what was his as valuable for as long as he could. 

Solas trailed fingers along his jaw, stopping to grab his chin. Pulling him closer, Jack huffed a soft breath, gasping quietly when his mouth found his ear, tongue slowly sweeping base to point in a way that made his legs quiver, threatening to give out under him. 

“If I could ask a favor of you?” Solas breathed. 

“A—anything, name it.” Jack moaned. 

Oh but he was too easy. Much as he enjoyed how easy it was to pull his strings, a little challenge might be nice from time to time. 

“There’s no doubt we’ll be parted for a time, however brief. If I might ask would you kindly do whatever it takes to reach me again. Do what you must to  _ live. _ ” Solas asked. 

It might well prove to be an impossible ask. For all he knew, closing the Breach would be too taxing. Perhaps he  _ did _ get possessed and had to be put down. But if by some chance that command would work? It would guarantee that he’d return to him. Sometimes a little insurance was good. 

“I—I…” Jack mumbled. 

His lips moved like he meant to finish the statement but he didn’t, only nodding, the blank look in his eyes giving way to clarity in that oh-so-addicting way. 

“You should get going. They’re waiting for you.” Solas reminded him. “I’ll be along in a bit.” 

Jack looked uncertain, looking over his shoulder to him before he opted to listen and go ahead. Varric smiled at him when he came up the path, stopping quite suddenly, just shy of colliding with him. Varric handed him a pear. 

“Thought you might be hungry. You slept in a bit and missed breakfast. Cassandra is trying to get the mages ready to march. She was going to insist you lead, but it’s been troublesome enough to just get everyone moving together that she plans to go on ahead and have you and a small group of your choosing accompany you.” Varric explained. 

Jack nodded, taking a few small bites before he pointed to Varric. “I think you, Solas and Bull should be fine, right?” 

Varric nodded slowly. “Don’t imagine Chuckles will enjoy your choice in company, but it’s  _ your  _ choice, not his. He doesn’t necessarily have to approve.” 

Jack left long enough to go ask Bull if he’d like to come with, to which he must have approved, walking ahead to join the group. Rather than wait, he indicated he’d wait at the remains of the Temple. Polishing off the last few bits, he tossed out the center, licking his fingers off just in time for Solas to come up the path. He averted his eyes, focusing on the prints in the snow instead so Varric might not say anything about the blush creeping up. 

Varric found it kind of sweet in a way. Kid trying so hard to impress someone? Yeah, that felt pretty on brand for him. Freckles seemed to think it wasn’t incredibly obvious. Who was he to suggest any different. No need to embarrass him by pointing it out. 

“Ah, good. You did manage to get something. It’s important you keep your strength and willpower as focused and strong for this.” Solas told him. 

“I won’t have to fight another demon, will I?” Jack asked, wary. “Last time there was a demon.” 

“If there’s another demon, you shouldn’t have much trouble killing it. You won’t be alone.” Solas said calmly. 

Sure, he wasn’t bound by the same moral problems when killing demons. That didn’t mean they were easy to fight all the time. Another big one like before? He had help then too, and it still put him out for a few days. Sighing to himself, he noticed Cassandra and the mages had left a few minutes before. Getting to the temple would take more besides. They could leave in a short while and probably catch up to them easily still. 

“Do you have everything, Freckles?” Varric asked. 

Jack pulled his pack off his shoulders, looking through everything. Even carried spare clothes, something simple, and...a dagger? Was that one of the things Cullen added before? A few potions he didn’t pack either, and some sort of dried meat. Seemed like mostly everything he could think of? 

“Yes, I believe so…” Jack said. 

“Alright. Deep breaths. Calm those nerves a bit.” Varric suggested. 

Jack nodded, focusing on how he was breathing rather than what might happen. They set off a bit later, Jack leading the way so he at least  _ looked _ like he had a rough idea of what he was doing. How could he let anyone else do it when it was him they were expecting? Made him feel nervous all over again until he started the breathing once more.

Creators this was so stressful. He was clan First and it still hadn’t felt as intense as the stillness, the silence more tangible than he anticipated, nothing but the slow, swirling hum of the Breach. He felt like he might be sick. 

“Are you ready, Herald?” Solas asked seriously. 

Jack frowned, nodding. He was about as ready as he could be. He massaged his hand, the discomfort more noticeable right here, like fire in every nerve. Let’s hope he was really up to the task, 


	25. Chapter 25

Jack looked up at the approaching avalanche, grimacing. Blown down through a wooden panel, he felt bits of wood sticking from his skin, sharp rocks cut in along his legs, bruised, battered, bloody and utterly exhausted, the mark swallowing away a group of demons that wasn’t large enough to cause much trouble normally, but he wouldn’t be surprised if he was dying. The only warmth he felt in the cold was the sticky warmth of his blood soaked through his clothes. He stumbled towards what looked like a way out. He lost his footing, falling face first into the snow, managing to crawl a few feet before he just stopped, sobbing.

It wasn’t the pain, though there was plenty of that, the bruises around his throat where Corypheus — the Elder One — had held him by the throat, places cut and burned from facing down red Templars,  _ spliced _ , he was tempted to say he heard. Regular lyrium caused mutations too, but typically only after using way too much, needing more and more to equal that power, at least, from what had been explained to him. Red lyrium was worse, even a bit was enough to cause irreparable damage, and one quickly spliced beyond recognition, the point of hideous, contagious deformity for only a modest power boost. 

Places burnt up from rushing into fire to try and rescue the villagers.  _ That _ was killing him as surely as the wounds. Out of everyone he tried to save, he managed only Minaeve. Too late to save Adan, and Flissa’s screams blended with Segritt’s as they burned alive, Jack still struggling pointlessly against beams too heavy to move on his own. He’d have asked for help, but in the chaos he was separated from the others, left to struggle pointlessly by himself. Even now, he questioned why he hadn’t just stopped struggling. He should never have survived even this far. 

Jack raised his head, the snow around him was tinged a wicked red, melted down several inches by the warmth of it before the cold froze it. He took a deep, shuddering breath, frowning. All he could think about was getting back to his feet, making his way up the mountain, back to Solas. He had no idea why  _ that _ somehow felt more important than the deep grief, why it was more important than just laying down until the pain went away. Shivering in the cold, he kindled fire into existence between freezing, cut fingers. If he kept it close, surely it would keep him warm enough, but whether his legs would carry him was the problem. 

Cullen paced at the far edge of the makeshift camp. The odds were impossible. Jack had gotten separated from his only aid. Left on his own? It seemed like a death sentence. No one could have survived that alone. He  _ hoped _ he could. He kept hoping that he’d see him come up over the ridge. Josephine and Leliana debated what mostly non-existent options for getting out of the mountains and out of the cold. Varric shuffled his cards, must have been going on thirty minutes straight, as if that was all he could focus enough to do, shaking his head. He should have stayed. If he had stayed behind, he could have caught up with Jack and… no, that probably wouldn’t have worked. 

Solas glanced over his shoulder. He’d give it a bit longer before he wrote it off as a lost cause. Somewhat fortuitous that they got separated when they did. It had provided a fine opportunity to find out just what he could do if asked. He hadn’t expected it would work. It was looking like it wouldn’t. He turned away to return to his thoughts. Without Jack, it probably meant little. After all, no one else had the anchor. It was a lost cause. He would have to start thinking about what he would do now. 

Cullen alerted, rushing off to the sound of protests, but he ignored them. He spotted motion just down the ridge, managed to see clearly enough through the snow to realize it  _ was  _ Jack he saw, not just some delusion. Maker, he was so broken. It would heal with help, maybe even fairly quick, but he had to be in unbearable agony. Warmed from the fire, not out for long, Cullen noticed the blood dripping down his armor. He didn’t care, the Herald  _ lived! _ As gently as he could, he scooped him up, carrying him back up and to the camp. Shocked faces drifted closer, then away, and Varric stopped shuffling, quick to get any healers that weren’t currently occupied, waving Cullen to an open bed. He set him down as easily as he could, staring instead at the anchor when the healer began to cut away his clothes. 

Solas came close enough to see him. It should have been impossible. How he got up the mountain in such a condition...it beggared belief to think such simple words powerful enough to inspire him to such feats. Very well. If he was going to prove such an invaluable tool, he’d see to it he survived. Beyond that, he’d do his own ‘impossible’ feat and carry the Inquisition out of the Frostbacks. Hopefully he recovered soon. He would owe him greatly by the time he regained consciousness, and he intended to collect as soon as he was passably able. 

Solas gestured to Cullen, the only one among the advisors who seemed relatively free at the time. 

“If I may. There may be a place that could hold the inquisition. Jack would have led you, I recall him telling me of it now that I think of it. I believe I can find the way. If you might get the rest to follow?” Solas told him. 

Cullen looked from him to the others. What other choice did they have but to listen to even a small lead? Holding a hand up, he approached the table, discussing it quietly. There was some wordless nodding, and then, like a wave, word began to spread. They would follow his lead, and when next poor Jackie opened his eyes? He’d be in the new home  _ he _ helped them find. To the place he delivered them to, unknowingly. 

Solas spared him a glance, taking point. It wasn’t going to be a quick journey by any means, but by the end of the second day walking, he pointed it out. A castle, nestled in the heart of the mountains, previously hidden like a secret only he knew. Well, only  _ Jack _ knew. He would take no credit for it, he didn’t want or need it. Hours more beyond that, and people were establishing places for storage, and bunking and offices. Jack was comfortably settled in a proper bed, not his room by any means, but a designated area for treating the wounded. Once Jack was on his feet and awake, and had time to look at the room he was getting? Well. That would be entertaining at the least. He was going to love it. Right up until he realized all the promise it carried. 

Solas went to go look in on him once more before he returned to his own business. Stopping by the door, he heard Varric regaling him with colorful tales about the Deep Roads, and the Red Lyrium idol they found, about his brother and dark spawn. Solas wrinkled his nose and turned away. He’d check back later. He wasn’t interested in extra company. 


End file.
